The Opera's Ghost
by Wandering-Recluse
Summary: ON HIATUS. It takes place after the musical but I try to incorporate all the original characters and the characters from Kay's book. What happens after the famous chandelier crash? Will Erik ever see Christine again? And what about Raoul? Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 (Erik)

"Pitiful creature of darkness" Christine had said of me, I wondered, was I really a pitiful creature? I pondered this as I paced across the black carpet of my dungeon beneath the Opera Garnier, was this place really such a dungeon? I sighed and slumped down. I stood staring at my hands, the hands of a monster some said. I traced the scars on my wrist that Christine had pretended not to notice, or was she pretending? I could not bring myself to blame Christine, even now for leaving and going with that fool. The Viscount Raoul de Chagny. I remembered how much I wanted to kill him the first time I saw him with Christine, but I also felt jealous. Why was it he that made her eyes sparkle like that when she laughed? I would have killed him too, if she had not begged me to spare his life, that and she would give up her happiness for him. Or did she love him that much? Did she just want to get away from this horrid deformity that has cursed me all these years? I then remembered how she had looked at him. Yes, I decided she really did love him. But because of this curse she did not stay with me!

I ripped my cursed mask off my face and threw it to the ground, it trembled as if it were about to shatter but it did not, of course it didn't it was built by me wasn't it? Nothing I built ever disobeyed me, I was their master after all. I sighed again and looked down and my hands once again, the hands of a murderer. Did I regret killing all those people? Of course not. They were insolent fools, so ignorant, they deserved to die. Especially that one fool who had gone around telling everyone of me. My secrets are mine alone, even the slightest things. I then thought of all the names I had acquired over the years but there were three in particular that haunted me. The Phantom of The Opera, Angel of Music and of course the last one that as far as I knew I was the only one left to remember it: Erik. That's right, I laughed cruelly, even a monster such as myself could have such a mundane name.

I sat down at my organ and looked at my last masterpiece, The Don Juan Triumphant. Its deep complexities known only to me. I walked over and pick up the mask that bound me to my fate. I suddenly heard footsteps coming from the gate.

I put my mask on and blended into the shadows, all in a split second. What fool dare wander into my domain? They have truly have chosen a bad time to wander here, if it was any other time I would have given them a quick, painless death, well maybe. But today, today they would suffer and cry out in pain. I would torture them until they begged me for mercy and death, only then would they have they have the gift of death.

"Erik?" A timid, yet somehow strong voice queried from the center of my dungeon.

I blinked in surprise, who was left alive to remember my name? I peered out from the shadow but I still couldn't get a good glance so I quickly shifted to stalking up behind them. I grabbed my noose, the Punjab lasso. When I got close enough I wrapped the noose around his neck and hissed in his ear.

"Tell me who you are and I may let you die painlessly."

'My dear Erik, have you forgotten me already? Although it has been many, many years I didn't think that you would forget the man who saved your life." With great difficulty he twisted around to look at me.

I felt faint, the room around me started spinning, how could this man still be alive?

"The daroga." I managed in a steady voice. "How are you still alive? I had thought they killed you in Persia."

His face lit up. "Ah, so you do remember me, Erik."

I removed the noose from his neck.

"Why have you come down to my lair? I have no patience to talk to anyone today, even a man who is supposed to be dead." I said wearily.

I walked away and hoped that he would not follow, although I knew he would. I heard his footsteps echo behind me, loud to my ears compared to my silent walk.

"I hear that you kidnapped a young lady by the name of Christine Daae, does this have anything to do with your forgiving mood? Because usually you would have killed me without a second thought, even though I once saved your life." He questioned as he followed behind me.

I turned around so abruptly he ran into me.

"Do not EVER speak that name, for Ms. Daae belongs to me and only me!" I snarled

He took a step back in shock then smiled.

"Ah, I see. So it seems our dear Erik has finally fallen in love. Something many thought would never happen, although many girls do not seem to like to belong to someone. Really Erik, give the poor girl some freedom." He chided.

"She's already gone with her lover the Viscount de Chagny." I said bitterly. "They fled my lair no more than a day ago."

"The Viscount de Chagny, really." He said thoughtfully. Then he seemed to fully process what I said.

"And you let them live?" He asked shocked. "They're alive?"

"Of course they're alive! I would have killed the Viscount had Christine not begged for his life."

"Ah, this sounds more like the Erik I know, Erik the trap door maker, as you were known in my country." He said slightly amused.

"Yes, the country of my ill-spent youth now leave at once, I have no patience for visitors." I said stalking away, of course the daroga never listened to anything anyone said.

"I see, you must have truly loved this girl, for as I recall no one could ever stop you from killing when you desired."

I stopped at swung the noose toward him again, but this time he was ready. He had his hand at the level of his eyes before the noose got to him.

"You really think that trying to strangle me with your noose two times in a row will work? Really Erik, you ought to know me better than that." He said taking the noose off his neck.

I then threw a blow to the stomach. He wasn't expecting it but he blocked it somehow.

"Ah, Daroga there is no beating you is there? In all my years I have never once beaten you in a fair fight." I sighed.

"Then may I come in for tea?" He asked.

"If there's no other way for you to leave then yes."

"Well then, let us sit down and have tea." He said joyfully.

I filled my kettle and set it across the fire and took out one teacup. The Daroga was not surprised, for he knew I never ate in the company of others.

"So Erik, I hear that you've been terrorizing people here and that they call you the phantom of the Opera." He said as he sat down. "Not a bad name, I suppose after all many consider you equivalent to a phantom. As many do not consider you real."

"Ah, yes unfortunately I am all here. Mind, soul and body. Only my heart has been given to another." I said thinking of Christine.

He looked stunned; I set his tea in front of him and watched him put a lump of sugar in it.

"My, my it seems our dear little Phantom" He said the word mockingly "Really has learned of love."

"Do you doubt me?" I asked in a withering tone.

"Of course not, I learned not to doubt you years ago; there is no room in your black soul for lies." He said pretending to apologize.

"Eat then leave!" I commanded but the Daroga will always be the Daroga, he sat there calmly sipping his tea.

"So my dear Phantom, have you built a normal house yet? For as I recall the last thing you said to me was 'I want to live like a normal person, build normal houses with normal bricks.'"

"Why would I build houses for the human race? They have denied me, called me a monster; I have no love for those human fools!" I seethed.

"You're a human too! Beneath that mask is not a monster but a man! A man named Erik!" He shouted his voice vibrating around the room.

"Is that what you think? You think that I am merely a man? No, monsieur I am neither a man nor a monster I am a chimera, yes, a mix between them. I have murdered and maimed and denied people what they most desired, yet somehow, somehow I still feel mortal feeling such as love, hate and despair." I said sounding as helpless as I felt.

He set down his tea and watched me for a moment. He sighed then stood up, his teacup empty. I then realized that in the time we were arguing he had not once looked at me. This only reinforced my need to hide in this dungeon, even the person who knew me the most did not dare look at me. I felt a twinge of sadness, but my rage overtook it as always.

"GET OUT!" I yelled as I flew into a rage. "GO NOW!" He stood there for a moment looking shocked. I then threw a plate at him. He ducked out of the path of the flying plate and backed away towards the door.

"Don't worry Erik, I'll be back!" He shouted behind his back as he ran out the gate.

He left me standing there still enraged holding a plate. I sighed and put the plate down.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 (Christine)

I sat down on Raoul's bed in hope he would come in soon, he had been tied up all day in convincing everyone that the Phantom of the Opera did not exist, and that he and I had ran off together for some time to ourselves right in the middle of the performance. He also had to explain to the city that the chandelier that had fallen and killed one person was because the ropes that supported the chandelier were loose so they broke from all the weight.

"Christine I love you!" The Phantom's voice echoed through my head like it did so very often. I remember how he had looked so sad and pitiful when I had given him his ring back, then he didn't look like a monster or a killer, he looked like a fragile and pitiful man. No matter what his face looked like I will always remember him as a man in that final moment. He was so breakable, or so it seemed. I then remembered how Raoul had looked at me when we had seen each other again; it was like I was the center of his universe. He then reminded me of the stories father used to tell like the story of Little Lottie and the Angel of Music! But it all brought me back to the Phantom. He had pretended to be my Angel of Music that father had said he would send when he was in Heaven, but he hadn't, not in the slightest. I remembered wondering once what the Phantom's name was, he just laughed and said

"Dear child, you shall not need to know that, it is a name that had come by accident."

I had always wondered, how could a name come 'by accident'?

At that moment Raoul walked in looking tired, He smiled happy to see me. He walked towards the bed, waiting for me to talk first. he then took his shirt off and put it in his dresser drawer. I looked at his finely sculptured body with his black hair and twinkling blue eyes, the eyes that were hard when he was talking to the Phantom, yet at the very end I saw something change in them as he looked upon the man in the mask. Was it pity? No, it was more likely respect, respect for the man who gave up his love to another man.

He sat on the bed beside me, not saying anything, just sitting there rubbing my back. I hugged him close my nose against his skin which smelt of the familiar sea water.

"Raoul, why Raoul? Why do people become so corrupt?" I sobbed into his chest; he was still rubbing my back absentmindedly.

"You're thinking of him again, aren't you Christine? I suppose it cannot be helped, for he impacted your life in so many ways." He whispered. I searched his voice for the malice or rage I expected to hear but found none.

He smiled at my expression.

"You think that I am mad at that pitiful man that once enraged me so? No Christine. I will show you that you picked the better man and made the right choice. He was not right for you, and I will prove that I truly love you Christine."

I smiled.

"What are you going to this time Raoul? Are you going to go swimming and fetch my bonnet or are you going to get my corset?" I teased.

He smiled back a little relieved it seemed. "Maybe this time I'll get your undershorts!" He teased back, pulling out a pair of my undershorts from the dresser.

"Raoul! How dare you!" I said still teasing as I swiped my shorts from him. "You know that a lady's undergarments are private!"

"Christine, Christine you will be my wife soon, at that time will I be able to look at your undergarments?" He asked all teasing gone from his voice.

"I- I don't know Raoul." I said hesitating.

He nodded wisely. "I understand Christine; I will not force you to do anything you don't desire to."

I hugged him tighter as I wept "Oh Raoul, thank you!"

We just sat there hugging each other for awhile. He eventually got up even though I could tell it pained him, I could see from his perspective that I was closer than ever to him.

He went over and took a clean shirt from the drawer and put it on. We were staying at an inn because the day we escaped the Phantom's lair Raoul's house mysteriously burned down killing no one. And the Opera house would not be in use for many day even months.

Just as Raoul put on a new shirt we heard a knock at the door.

"Mr. Viscount de Chagny?" The innkeeper's daughter asked in a timid voice. "There is a monsieur here to see you."

Raoul and I shared a brief glance of annoyance, it was most likely another person who wanted to talk about the chandelier and if it was going to be replaced.

"Bring him in." Raoul sighed.

She opened the door and ushered a man into the room, he paid her and then she left.

I took a close look at the man, he was wearing a outfit similar to what the Phantom always wore, complete with the same hat and cape. His eyes were a brilliant jade colour and his hair grey streaked by black . I then noticed that he had a wound on his right cheek that was bleeding profusely. He tried to stop the bleeding by dabbing his cut on the inside of his cape the blood blending in with the lining the cape.

I could tell Raoul was also alarmed by this man's appearance for he asked.

"Monsieur, need I get you some medical help? Perhaps a doctor?"

The man waved away the suggestion with his hand. He took off his cape and his hat and set them on the coat holder behind the door. I ran into the restroom to fetch gauze for his wound. He smiled gratefully as I gave it to him. As I got a closer I realized he was perhaps in his late 40's or even early 50's.

"Thank you madam." He said in a strange accent.

He cleared his throat and said

"I understand that you had seen and been kidnapped by the Phantom of the Opera." He started.

Raoul held his hand up. "Please Monsieur; do not tell me you believe in such gossip. There is no such thing as the Phantom of the Opera. He is merely a figment of one's imagination." The lie was told so often that it was beginning to sound of the truth. But neither Raoul nor I was a good liar so he easily spotted the lie unlike those blind fools we have been talking to the past day.

"Is that so? Well Viscount de Chagny, what would you say if I told you I have seen the Opera Ghost, even go as far to say he is in debt to me? That I once saved his life."

"I would go as far as to say you are a madman, there is no Opera Ghost."

The man turned to me, the lantern in the room lighting up his face. I gasped for around his neck he had the mark of the Phantom's noose, I would recognize the mark anywhere, there was no mistaking it.

"Now shall we begin to talk seriously?" He enquired.

Raoul stood up beside me in a rage but I waved him down.

"Raoul, he really does know about the Phantom, look at the marks that are imprinted on his neck." I whispered urgently to him.

He looked and I heard his intake of breath.

"It seems that you have been marked by the Phantom." Raoul said calmly, quite an act, he sounded as if the markings were very common.

The man smiled "Yes monsieur I have just arrived from an encounter from our friend, hence the cuts. He flew into a rage and started throw his dishware after we had a cup of tea. But pay no thought to that, excuse my lack of manners. I am called the Daroga, some call me the Persian. You may call me by either of my names, though the Phantom calls me The Daroga. I hail from the country of Persia."

"Viscount Raoul de Chagny, though you may call me Raoul. And this is my fiancée."

"Thank you Raoul, I can speak for myself." I interrupted I took the Persian's hand and shook it lightly.

"Christine Daae, monsieur, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." This was all a formality for presumably if he had come looking for us he knew our names.

"Thank you madam, the pleasure is all mine. I have heard rumours of your magnificent voice." He said a bit flirtatiously. Raoul heard it too, he stood up and said

"Sir, we are to get married next month, the wedding to be taken place at the chapel next to the Opera Populair. Where any guest wanted or the one unwanted may watch."

The Persian nodded his head sagely "Yes, I presume you mean the Phantom, though I do not think he will attend. He is in a dark despair and rage right now, and after knowing him for 25 years I do not think he will get over this immediately, for Ms. Daae is the only woman he has ever loved. And she has been the only one to have ever shown him the slightest affection."

"He has been shown no affection from a woman in his life?" I asked aghast.

He shook his head "His deformity was so horrible that I understand his mother declared she hated him. He has been shown no compassion by anyone."

I was so stunned I could not speak; his own mother had abandoned him? I had seen his distortion and realized that he was like a vulnerable child; he could be hurt more than he could hurt you. I had also expected him to come to our wedding, for although he was in pain he was a gentleman and could not stand to be rude. The thought of him not coming was such a shock that it almost physically hurt!

"When did you last see him?" I demanded standing up.

He looked a bit shaken at my sudden outburst as I am sure Raoul had.

"N-no more than a half hour ago madam." He said shakily .

"Will he still be in his lair?" I asked toning my voice down.

He regained his composure. "There is no doubt of it. For he has just had one of his ungodly rages."

"Merci beaucoup monsieur Daroga." I said as I grabbed the nearest wedding invitation I could get my hands on and dashed out the door. I heard Raoul's footsteps after me as I jumped into the nearest cab.

I told the driver to go to the Opera Populair as quickly as possible. If he was surprised by this request he didn't show it just drove me there, the horse's hooves clopping against the cobblestone streets. I felt bad for leaving Raoul like that but I had a feeling he would not be pleased if I went to go see the Phantom. In fact I would not have been surprised if he tried to physically restrain me.

I stepped out of the cab and went towards the Opera house. A large dark figure suddenly blocked my path. I felt acute panic, had Raoul caught up with me?

"Madam, it seems you forgot your coat. It gets cold down in his lair." The Persian said to me as he gave me my coat.

I felt my face warm as I took it from him. "Thank you monsieur" I barely whispered.

"Then if that is all I shall take my leave, I do value my life to some extent and I have a feeling that he will kill me this time for invading his lair once again." He turned to leave.

"Wait, sir!" I shouted. He turned around.

"Please tell what the Opera Ghost's name is!"

I could have sworn that I saw a smile on his face the moment I asked that question.

He turned away and said in almost a whisper, yet still loud enough for me to hear.

"Erik, his name is Erik."

He then turned and left me standing in the cold wind clutching my jacket to my chest.

Here I come Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, watch for me.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 (Raoul)

I stood there after Christine left, I was shocked, I was also a little ashamed of myself. We had only wandered out of that man's lair but a day ago and she was already yearning to see him. I thought if I forced her to not think of him he would disappear and go away, I thought it would be like he never existed. I see now that I was wrong, he had truly impacted Christine's life in a way I had and could not. To her he was like her dead father. But I also sensed something more to their relationship, it almost felt sensual. But I could tell it was because of their entwining passion of music. I can't claim to understand one's passion of music, I can barley whistle a show tune. But I have witnessed the miracles of music. I am a patron of the Opera. I believe that music there can touch your very soul and leave even the strongest of men weeping at the end of a performance. But still this man was too much! That horribly deformed face! How could there be such a creature on this earth?

I shuddered as I remembered that monster's face. The revulsion! How could Christine bear to look at it? I then recalled something else, those deep sorrowful eyes. The eyes that I could not bear to look into because of the sadness that they held. Those deep eyes that made you want to cry out in pity. Those eyes that seemed to dare you to draw closer.

I started to walk towards the Opera House. I looked around for a cab but knew that Christine had taken the last one when she had left me. Damn him! He is the one who drove her from me! But in the end he gave her back. But still he will haunt her for eternity, even in death. I wanted to drive her from his shadow; she deserves to live in the light!

I started walking towards the Opera house but then stopped. I had an epiphany. The Phantom would kill me if I went there, he would not hurt Christine but he would kill me. I sighed and walked back into the inn.

I was sitting on my bed reading my bible, for I was practicing Catholic, when there came another knock on the door. I had a flash of hope, had Christine returned? No, the knock was weak and frail; it could not possibly be Christine.

I jumped off the bed and opened the door, an elderly man collapsed in front of me.

"Erik? Where is Erik?" He asked looking up at me. Then he passed out.

I lifted him up and lay him gently on the bed; after all I couldn't just leave him there. I examined him more carefully. He looked as if he were around 80 years old, his hands were riddled with arthritis and it looked like he was having trouble breathing. His face was craggy and rough. He also looked as if he had been in pain for a long time. But somehow he had almost a gentle look on his face.

I then started wondering who is Erik? Why does he want to see him so badly? Why did he come to me? He looked as if he would not wake up for a while so I went down to fetch some tea for the both of us.

I returned just in time, he started moaning and stirring around then he sat up. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He shook his head from side to side as if clearing his mind from something unpleasant.

"Monsieur?" I asked uncertainly. He seemed fine, but God knew if he was.

He looked me straight in the eyes. I was surprised, for only Christine did not cringe away from looking at my face since my mother, father and brother died. He must be a foreigner.

"Sir, please tell me about Erik." He pleaded. "I need to know where he is."

I was baffled; who was this man named Erik? Why did this man come to me?

"Excuse me monsieur, but would you tell me your name?" I asked him graciously.

"Of course, sir I apologize for being so rude before. My name is Giovanni, I was once a master mason but now I am just an elderly man." He laughed. "Your heart is very kind to help an old man such as myself."

"Think nothing of it sir, really but I do have a question for you."

"Go on." He replied.

"Sir, who is this man named Erik? I do not know anyone by that name." I told him.

He looked bewildered for a moment. Then smiled a grim, frightening smile.

"Yes, I did not think he would tell anyone else his name after what I did to him. But when I met the Daroga I found I was wrong, but evidently he did not tell you his name. Erik, my dear friend is none other than The Phantom of the Opera."

I blinked in surprise, the Phantom had a name? Impossible! Such a monster does not deserve to have a life, let alone such a mundane name as Erik! Did Christine know about that monster's name? No, she could not have, she would have told me if she knew.

"What do you know of the Phantom?" I asked rather harshly.

He was not at all surprised by my sudden outburst. In fact, it looked as if he had expected it.

"I know more than you could ever know about his past monsieur. He came to me and studied under me at the age of 13."

"It seems as if you know of him very well. If he and you were so close why did he come here to torment Christine?" I cried out in anguish forgetting all my manners.

His face became contorted with pain. "That monsieur, I do not know. Why did he pick this woman over any other? Erik's mind is a twisted, dark thing now I believe. Though he was not always like this."

"You expect me to believe those lies. He must try to lure any women into his web; after all he must be desperate because of his deformed face."

His eyes became watery and looked as if he were remembering the past. "No, he claimed that no woman was ever great enough for him. Even the most beautiful."

"What do you know? He is a monster. He only cares for himself! He and Christine that is!" I shouted.

"My daughter loved him, she loved him with all her being and he still denied her. Saying he would never love." The faraway look in his eyes still there.

"If that's so then where is your daughter now? Why didn't she stay with him?" I shouted.

His eyes sharpened with a look of despair.

"My daughter is dead." He said simply. But his eyes were filled with anguish.

I was aghast. "Monsieur, I apologize for my brash comment."

He waved away my apology with his hand.

"It is my fault that she is dead monsieur. Mine and mine alone. Erik was involved but he was not the cause as he thought he was. It is partially my fault for this black person he has come."

"Monsieur, please tell me what happened." I pleaded.

"Very well, when the boy was about 13 years old I took him on as an apprentice. He was the most gifted boy I had ever seen. My daughter Luciana was away at school at that time. I was going to tell the boy about her but could not find the right time. She eventually came home. She became infatuated with the air of mystery around Erik. She begged him to show her his face he would not comply. I eventually began to think of him as the son I never had. Then one day I became cross with Luciana's constant begging. I ordered Erik to take his mask of. That was the beginning of the moment that will haunt my memories till the day I die. He asked me coldly if I meant it. That was the moment when he started to hate me. I told him I did so he removed the mask. Oh the horror of it! Such a deformed face! We were on the rooftop. The structure was starting to crumble around the edges. I was going to have that fixed when I got around to it but when I did it was too late. When he took his mask off Lucinda gave a great cry and ran away. He stood there watching her. She lost her footing near the edge o the roof and fell. The structure gave away beneath her feet and she fell and died instantly. Her skull was split open. Erik left in the middle of the night, still hating me, I believe. I could not even tell him I did not hate him."

His eyes, still sharp with the pain from so many years ago looked into mine.

"Monsieur, I want to tell him how I feel. I have been tracking him for all those years after that incident." He explained.

I felt intense pity towards this elderly gentleman. But I knew I could not take him down to that dungeon, for the Phantom would kill us both. I knew he spared no pity for even the most elderly man. I sighed and pondered for a while. The man had a pleading look on his face.

"Monsieur." I began hesitantly. "I do apologize but I cannot take you down to his lair."

He face fell in sadness and disappointment.

I continued. "I think that we should not go down to-night for he has just two other visitors to-night and anymore would just be suicide. And I do believe that the Phantom would like to kill me at the moment."

He frowned. "Has Erik really become so corrupt that he kills at his whim?" He asked in a whisper.

"Yes, monsieur. The years you have been away from him his hate and torment have only increased. He is now truly a monster."

"DO NOT SAY THAT!" He shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "Erik does have good in his soul! He started out with the same soul as us! It's from people like you where he learned the darkness and hate people had for him!"

There was a stunned silence after he said that. I think he was even more surprised than I of his outburst. I had to admit, he made a very convincing argument. I thought about it for a moment. Could it really be people like me who turned him the way he was? Impossible!

"Monsieur, do you have lodgings for the night?" I asked, for the subject had made me uncomfortable.

He looked slightly abashed. He lowered his head.

"No monsieur I have just arrived within the hour. I then ran into a man who called himself the Daroga who knew of Erik. I then rushed over here."

"Well then let me buy the room next to ours for you, for you will have to wait for Christine to come back before you can venture down to his lair."

His face glowed with optimism.

"Oh, monsieur. Thank you very much. You have a very kind heart." He said with so much pleasure in his voice I could no longer argue with him.

I went down the stairs and told the innkeeper that I would like another room. He looked at me a little sympathetically.

"Poor chap." I heard him mutter under his breath. "He and his fiancée must really have had a tiff."

I almost laughed out loud this English man had thought that Christine and I were the ones separating rooms!

I made sure that the man was comfortable enough and went to go wait for Christine in our room


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Erik)

I sat down on my sofa that had once been my mother's. That woman who spurned my anger and hatred towards everyone. She denied me everything! I will never forgive her for hating me like that! I even hated the part of myself that had her blood running through it. She was most likely to have given me my temper. I briefly thought of my meeting with The Daroga. Why had he come at a time like this? How long had he been here? I sighed and refused to think of him anymore. His actions have always been a mystery to me and these were all the same.

I thought of Christine and that fool's wedding that would take place in the coming month. I felt that hot, boiling rage that made me want to kill. But this time, it was no one's fault but my own. I could have made her stay; I could have been the one that will be with her on that day. Yet I had a strange feeling that if I did not let her go neither she nor I would be satisfied.

Erik is one person that does not understand feelings of love, why Erik? What was it first about that person that made him fall in love with her?

I struggled to regain my thoughts, for the more agitated I become I refer to myself as Erik. I grew up never calling myself 'me' or 'I' it was always 'Erik'. Mother would never accept otherwise. She would not let me think of myself as a human being. This, tragically worked for Erik never did think of himself as human. I do not think of myself as human, even at this moment. Even less so without Erik's mask. My first unfeeling scrap of clothing and the only present that my mother ever gave me.

I stood up. I paced around by the gate. I looked out onto that lake which isolated me from all humans. I felt a smouldering fire beneath my breast bone. I gasped and almost cried out, I wanted Christine! I wanted to touch her face! I wanted her to know that I loved her more than anyone!

I locked these feelings behind a door in my consciousness. I've already committed enough sins. I may be a man, but I thought that lust was beyond me. I thought I would never love. For no one has ever loved the whole, real Erik! No one until Christine.

"Christine, Christine." I moaned in pain so deep I felt as if someone were stabbing me with my own dagger.

I limped back into another room of my prison. I sat there full of self pity when I heard footsteps come into my dungeon. Again. This time they would die without being able to say a word! I hate interruptions! Especially when I am basking in self pity! I grabbed my dagger this time; though I may be more skilled with my noose my dagger is most effective for a quick, bloody murder.

"Phantom? Erik?" The familiar soprano voice sang from my sitting room.

I dropped my dagger. It landed right beside my foot; I was too preoccupied to notice that I nearly impaled myself.

"Christine! Christine!" I cried out like a madman.

When she turned to me I could see tears in her eyes.

"Erik, Erik, I apologize for being so rude and inconsiderate. I know that I permanently scarred you. Will you ever forgive me?" She cried out.

For a moment Erik forgot everything, Erik forgot everything about himself.

"Christine!" I shouted and disobeying every thought in my head I stroked her face. For a moment I lost all thought, I could only feel the pleasure of satisfying my lust. Then I felt her cringe away at my ever cold hands. I lamented myself for being so careless. How could I forget what I am? I drew back and hid myself among the shadows.

Then I had a sudden realization. How did Christine know my Christian name? As I recall I had not told her. Even though she had begged to know it, only Erik needs to know his secrets.

"Oh, Erik. Please tell me that you do not hate me! I could not bear it! I would die!" She sobbed.

I inched closer. I then proceeded to get on my knees and said.

"My dear, I could never hate you. Please tell me, has he hurt you? Why do you enter my lair when it is dark out? Whoever has harmed a hair on your head shall die!" I declared standing up.

She sat down the moment I stood up. She stared up at me with big, innocent eyes.

"Erik, no one has hurt me least of all Raoul, there is something I need to ask of you." She said the blood rushing up to her face.

"Who told you my name?" I asked coldly.

She looked up shocked. Then looked slightly abashed.

"There was a man named the Daroga or the Persian who came to the inn Raoul and I were staying at, he was the one who told me your name." The blood drained from her face as she realized what she had said. To her this would give me enough of a reason to kill him. God knows I have killed for less reason than that.

I waved away her revelation. If it had been any other person I would have not given a 2 pence for their skin, but the Daroga was different. I was still much in his debt, as much as I loathed to be so.

I walked away from her to try to restrain my yearning. Unknowing to the danger of the monster within me at the moment, Christine followed me. I closed my eyes and prayed to a God that was not there. That I could hold my lust for another moment.

"You foolish girl! Why have you come down here? Have you come only to torture Erik?" I roared.

She flinched at the sudden outburst. I longed to touch her and tell her that I would protect her. But the very thought of myself telling her such things shattered the thought of the unbearable loneliness. I could never tell her such words of love! I am a monster, never meant to love anybody! I am only meant to hate and kill!

I reached out to touch my reflection in a nearby mirror, even with my mask I still looked like a monster. Erik's hands looked as if they belonged to a skeleton, they were cold and moist. His frame looked as if it were about to disappear, it was wiry and lean, like a boy's, but underneath was a strong body that could lift even the heaviest of men. Even Erik cannot stare at such a vile sight forever; he understood why Christine had left him.

"Erik?" Christine's nervous voice broke through my thoughts.

My head snapped up to see that she was handing me a slip of paper. What could it be? I was mildly intrigued. I did not see the need for a slip of paper to notify me of something of urgency when a messenger was right there.

"Tell me what the paper says!" I barked.

Christine just hung her head and refused my wishes. I was overcome with fury, how dare this girl disobey me!

I think she sensed my fury for she made a dash for the gate. But before she could reach her means of escape I lowered it.

"Did you think that you may escape that easily? No, you will stay here as I open that scrap of paper. You will watch and see how I may react. My dear, you are shaking, whatever for? Did you not hear what I said before? No one will hurt a hair on your head, not even Erik." I said my rage cooling with every word until it turned to fear. What was in this paper that had made her afraid of Erik, Erik who had promised never to harm her?

I gently guided her over to a chair. She collapsed into it, exhausted because of fear. I was concerned for her. She was sopping wet and was shivering like mad. I warmed the remainder of the tea from the Daroga's visit and set it in front of her. She held onto it warming herself before drinking it.

I sat down in the chair across from her, my eyes never leaving her face. She blushed slightly when she saw I was looking at her. I forced my eyes away, I looked at my hands. I sensed that Christine was uneasy about something.

"What is it? Why are you uneasy my dear?" I asked concerned.

She started as if I had physically touched her. Her hot tea spilled out of the cup onto her hand. She cried out in pain. I ran over to her, fearing how bad the burn would be. I looked and saw a 3rd degree burn. I reached out to her then realized what I was doing and quickly went to fetch some healing salve.

When I returned I saw tears in her eyes, I supposed they were from the pain. I put my hand on the burn to cool it. I saw her relax at once, but the tears spilled onto her cheeks. I quickly put the salve on. It would heal in about two days if she did not hurt herself again.

"Why do you weep child? Does it still hurt?" I asked fearing the answer; the tears were still streaming down her cheeks.

She shook her head. I was bewildered if her wound did not hurt why was she weeping?

"What is it my dear? Why are you crying? Is it something that Erik has done?" I asked worried.

I gently wiped away her tears before I could stop myself, I was shocked. Not only did she not flinch away from me like any other human, she seemed to draw closer to me! I quickly dropped my hand but she picked it up again.

"Christine? Christine? What is the matter?" A hint of desperation in my voice.

"You..." She started. I feared the worst, what was she going to blame me for?

"You have been so kind to me, caring for me and loving me. Yet I have done nothing to earn this kindness. I have denied you, betrayed you and hurt you, yet I keep coming back to you. When I do come back no matter how much pain you are in, you always welcome me gladly." She gasped, the tears streaming down so copiously that she could no longer talk.

"Is that what you think? You think that I am a good person? My dear child, Erik is not a good person at all! Erik has murdered and maimed and has done every possible sin in existence. Erik is truly a bad being." I laughed cruelly.

All this time she had not let go of Erik's hand. He was starting to feel almost happy. No one had held his hand this long before.

A phrase which I had heard before had appeared in my head, J'ai Trouve la paix. I have found peace.

I then remembered her lover, the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. I felt very sad and dejected. I ripped my hands out of Christine's.

"Do you not have a lover to back to? I am very sure he is missing you at the moment. Why do you torture Erik with your presence?" I asked miserably.

She looked as if I had struck her, her face contorted with pain.

"I didn't mean to..." She whimpered.

"You didn't mean to?" I roared. "You didn't mean to? That is no excuse! If you did not mean to does that make everything alright? Does that make Erik's pain go away? No! It does not!"

She backed away in fear, although it broke my heart to see her like this it was the only way to get her away from me, the monster.

Although she backed away she did not leave. I wondered what she was waiting for.

I got down on my knees and sobbed.

"Christine, leave, please leave. You are not safe here with Erik."

She looked disorientated. There was a shock of emotions across her face. Hurt, anger, bewilderment, sadness.

"Why Erik? Why am I not safe with you? You are my Angel of Music! How could I not be safe with you?" She asked helplessly.

"My dear, you still think of me as your Angel of Music? You should know better than that! For I am The Phantom of the Opera!" I said shocked that she still thought of me as that silly lie I had told her.

She ducked her head down and whispered.

"No, you are Erik. Neither a phantom, nor a monster you a human."

I sighed, how many times would I have to repeat myself to-day?

"Christine, I am not a man. This face has made sure of that. This face, which has denied me all human rights, has also freed me from all obligations to the human race. For that I suppose I should be grateful." I said wearily

"Why? Why should you be grateful, Erik? How is your hate for the human race justified? Why is your being devoted to hating them?" She shouted. I was startled by her outburst. She was usually such a soft spoken person.

"No one can see Erik's genius. So why should he bother being around those who will only mock and ridicule him? Besides Erik cannot be bothered to see those fools who hate what they fear. What do they fear? Is that what you ask? They hate my face and my soul. That is what they hate." I snarled through my teeth.

"Erik, nobody can see your genius because you hide it from the world! Has anybody ever seen your craftsmanship? Has anyone heard your voice? Have they heard the sweet, seductive, hypnotizing tone of your voice?" She asked almost reduced to tears once again.

I smiled a grim frightening smile tinged with sadness and regret.

"Yes, unfortunately two people have heard and seen my gifts before you. One was my mother and she was afraid. My own mother was afraid of my talents! Then she forbid me from singing. My passion was banned because of her fear! The second person saw my powers as an architect. His name was Giovanni. He was a master mason who did excellent work. He did not care to see my face as others have asked me though I knew that the rumours had too reached him. In the end he ended up hating me too. Everyone who has seen my gifts and my face are burdened for life. No one can escape that fate. Oh I forgot about the Daroga how could I? Of course he has seen all of my talents and my face. He also knows of Erik's secrets. He has been lucky to live this long. Though Erik will never be the one to kill him."

She looked surprised that I had spoken so much. I realized that that was the most words I had said for about 15 years.

I was concerned because her face turned a very pallor colour.

"Erik, what happened to your mother" She asked precariously.

"My mother is dead." I said simply with no emotion in my voice. "Do not fear. Erik is not the one to have killed her. No, age can kill just as well as Erik."

She seemed unsteady on her feet. She sank into a chair.

"How can you speak such things?" She demanded. "Your mother loved you!"

"She did not!" I shouted childishly. "My mother loved no one but herself!"

For once the child was silent. But though she was silent I could sense her anger, rage and fear build up to the breaking point.

"You want proof of her hate?" I asked cruelly. "Look at this!" I ripped my shirt off, I saw her open her mouth in horror, as if she were about to scream. I knew it was not because of my exposed body. But because of the scars that marred my chest and back.

I felt shame for being so angry with her for something she could have not understood. She is merely a innocent child. No matter how much she had grown up in the past 48 hours she was still an innocent, naive child who knew none of the cruelties of the world. Before Erik had shown her she had no idea of anything outside of her own life.

She had a caring father, where I had none and everyone had shown her nothing but kindness whereas Erik was only shown hate and revulsion, even as a small child. I looked at my custom tailored shirt I had just ruined and felt very irritated. That had been one of my favoured shirts and in one moment of blind rage I had ruined it. Did it always have to be like this? I thought of my way to calm my anger that Christine had never found. It was hidden in the darkest corners of my room so that she could never find it.

Morphine. Packs of morphine to help my impious anger. One of the most hidden secrets I had kept from Christine. I knew that if she saw the morphine she would be revolted. I had never let her see the veins in my arms for fear of her seeing them collapsed and knowing about the morphine. I did it to protect you Christine. I then remembered my exposed arms. I ran from the room in sightless panic.

She did not follow, smart girl. But I had a feeling that the only thing she had seen was the scars on my back and nothing else. I was satisfied. After all, even lovers keep secrets from each other do they not? I put my shirt on. Then suddenly,

"DAMN!" I swore as I remembered something. Another oath left my lips, one that did not come from my mouth very often because of my strict upbringing. But this moment called for it. I was such an idiot! Hopefully Christine had not looked at the table in my den.

I rushed out to where I had left the girl in my mindless panic. I knew it was too late for in her hand she held a needle and the pack of morphine I had left on the table. She looked positively green when she turned around to face me.

I was concerned for her health but even more frightened of what she now knew. I slowly guided her over to my mother's sofa and sat her down. I fetched a glass of water. She took it silently and gulped it down as if she were a man in a desert. Her normal colour had returned once again. She was noticeably better, she had been shaking and I had not taken note of it. Though she had stopped now I could still detect a slight tremor in her hands.

Her eyes suddenly had a strange glint of madness in them. She walked slowly over to me, slowly and seductively. I found myself in almost a trance. Helpless to do anything but watch her walk over to me. When she reached me she caressed my face the way she had done when she had first unmasked me. I sensed this time that this was not the kind of unmasking by simply removing an outer mask. Her hand gently moved across my face to down my neck then to the sleeve of my shirt. I realized in sudden horror what she meant to do, but I was powerless to stop it. Just as her hand reached my sleeve she ripped it back and stared at my arm in terror. What she saw I believe, was the scars from where I had lacerated myself on my fifth birthday. And beyond that, although I suppose that was enough to draw away from my touch forever, beyond that she saw what the morphine had done to my arm.

"You foolish girl!" I screamed in fury."Is this what you wanted to see? You wanted to see what I have to pay for your safety? This," I gestured to my arm. "Is what I pay to keep you safe! Look, you wanted to see! So LOOK my dear! See what you have unmasked this time! It cannot be worse than this face can it?"

She looked away from me. This only fuelled my rage. I grabbed her hair and pulled it so her eyes met mine. What I saw in those eyes was unmistakable fright, though usually that would have made my gut wrench in grief and sadness. This time I was so blinded by rage that I think that I could have killed the child and not feel any remorse till after. When she looked me in the eyes I was so far into my fury that I forgot about everything. I could only feel my hate and the power that surged through my body as if I had been struck by lightning. I could recognize no one, not even myself.

I pulled her harder almost lifting her off the floor by her hair. She cried out in pain. This brought me back to my senses, I dropped her and she collapsed on the ground. I stared at my hands in terror, what had I been about to do? I was ready to kill her for exposing her guardian! If I had killed her there would no longer be any reason for me to live! And how would I explain her death to Raoul? Or the Daroga? I had given my word to the Daroga that I would not kill unless it was in self defence! How would I explain this accident? I shuddered in revulsion when I realized that I was ready to really kill her.

The girl, that's right how, was she doing? Would she be okay? I looked over at the collapsed bundle on the floor. I realized that the pain and shock had been too much for her. She had passed out. I felt slightly guilty but then realized that it was probably best. Her mind was reacting naturally to the shock, it had shut itself down. To protect it's owner. I picked her up most likely for the last time and carried her over to the guest room of my lair. The one I had built especially for her. I set her on the bed and sat down beside her. I gently stroked her face and let my hand drift down to the area of her chest. It would be so easy to pull her dress off, and she wouldn't wake up for about two hours-.

I pulled away from her as if it could stop my thoughts. I was repulsed from my own mind! Imagine that! Even the genius was repulsed by the own dark inner workings of his mind! I nearly laughed aloud. But Christine looked so still and beautiful lying there, white and perfect like an angel. She almost looked as if she herself were made out of marble. Even in unconsciousness she looked perfect. Her chest heaved in heavy breath. It was a natural reaction to what she had just witnessed. I was not too concerned, she might have had a slight concussion from where I had grabbed her hair, that or when I had dropped her.

I went to my organ to leave her alone, in case my lust overcame my resolve. I sat down and started to play from Faust, my favourite part. It is right after Faust sells his soul to Mephistopheles. I have always hated the end of Faust. It is impossible, for God to interfere when Faust dies. There is no God! If there was why were creatures such as myself on this earth? Divine creator? How can anyone believe in such nonsense? Allah above! Until the age of 5 I had practiced Catholic like any good little boy. But then I learned that animals could not go to heaven. Why not? Sasha, who was more of a friend to me then my own mother, had to live in Hell while my mother-the torture of my existence was allowed to wander in bliss in Heaven? There is no God, only oblivion.

I sat pondering my existence. Christine's as well. It was beginning to drive me mad because I could not figure anything out. I hate it whenever something is beyond me. When I was four I used to take my mother's clocks apart and threw fits when I could not put them back together. She would beat me for that also.

I must have sat there for an hour. I remembered when my mother locked me in my room for hours at a time. It was then when I learned to take out the bars on my window and break out to see the world. I had learned how to keep myself busy at a very early age. It was quite easy to steal the book that I had gotten for my 5th birthday. The only present I had only gotten. The book on ventriloquism. I smiled as I remembered that book. I looked over at Christine and decided as long as she was unconscious I might as well have some fun.

I stayed where I sat and started singing. Most people would not think that this was unusual, but when I sang my voice was projected so it seemed it was whispering in Christine's ear. I saw her twitch. She couldn't be awake now, could she? She should have been out for another hour at least.

I was shocked. How could she recover this fast? But since she was awake I could tease her no longer in case she went mad like my mother had.

Her eyes fluttered open. They were still wide, but the madness and fear had been spent. I wondered what she was thinking now. I turned around as to not frighten her by staring at her faultless beauty. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. For not even Erik can resist such a sight.

She got up and wandered over to where I was sitting. I was afraid, was she going to try to physically harm me? If she was I would have to kill her, and then I would have to kill myself. I am not afraid of death. Death to me was a companion that I often had. I had met death on the road of life many times and I have crossed the road each time because I had seen him coming. But someday I would not see him coming and I could not evade him. That was a day I could look forward to. I had been death's apprentice he was my master. But I would regret killing Christine. Oh yes, I would very much regret killing her.

She stood there staring at me as if trying to configure the inner workings of my mind. She gave up after about five minutes.

"Erik?" She asked timidly. "Why? Why do you subject yourself to such pain?"

I was startled. She actually had the nerve to ask why? That was something that no one had ever asked me.

"Why, my dear? That is a very interesting question. I do it to protect you." I said grimly.

She looked shocked. It looked as if she thought I did for my own enjoyment!

"How is it to protect me?" She demanded.

"My dear, have you forgotten Erik's temper? That is the only way to tame a wild beast. Sedate it so it can hurt no one. Unfortunately you caught me at a time where I have not had my morphine in many days. I have been very busy as you might recall.

I noticed that she flinched when I said the word 'morphine'. I almost smiled, but in fear I would frighten her I held myself back.

"This is why people call you mad!" She exclaimed suddenly. "You do things that have no sense to them! You think that _morphine_ will solve your problems? Surely this is not true! Why do you not see a doctor?"

This time I could not hold back my laughter.

"My dear, do you think any doctor would take me when I dress like _this_?" I gestured to my mask. " Do you think that they will not ask me to remove my mask? And when I oblige to their wishes, what will they do? They study me and put me under observation. Then if I try to resist they will put me in the mad house!" I yelled in rage.

She paled slightly but kept her composure.

"You have money do you not? You could very easily pay someone to keep to themselves. Some people will do anything for money." She said as she thought of her idea. Her eyes lit up from what she thought was an brilliant idea. I felt pity for her, such a simple mind. Her only flaw.

'My dear, have you ever met a poor doctor? Doctors have enough money and they only care about expanding their scientific knowledge. No, I do not trust doctors." I said gently.

She looked sorrowful, like I had letdown one of her greatest dreams.

"What do you know? Have you ever tried to get help? I suppose not, because you always act as if you are even above God. You are not, Erik! You are a living being, whether you consider yourself human or not. You are the same as the rest of us! The only difference is in your features and in your mind! You are smarter than anyone yet use it to torment people!" She yelled face red with exertion after she was done.

"My dear, of course I have tried to get help from many people. When I was working in the Shah's court with the Daroga he tried to get me help. The Daroga has always been kind to me. Anyhow, if the physician did not run away screaming after looking at my face they would try to put me under observation later. I remember one special instance where one had actually died of shock after looking at me!" I laughed at the memory of the poor midwife who had looked upon my face and died of fright.

She looked at me as if realizing that I might actually be insane.

"My dear, have no worry I am not insane, just lonely, yes very lonely. I have no experience with how people look at me when I react like this." I said mildly. She looked bewildered when it seemed I had read her mind.

I motioned for her to sit down opposite to me. She hesitated for a moment but sat. She looked ill at ease and the enormous chair seemed to swallow her slight build. I felt pity for this delicate creature. It would be hard to hurt her when I was completely sane, since my instincts advise me to protect the weak. Though there have been some women who I would have loved to have killed- I had actually killed the person who tormented and tortured me for their own enjoyment. I truly hated that women, she taunted me in the cruellest ways imaginable. Not by physical force but by tormenting my mental state. She treated me like a horse, putting a carrot in front of my nose to make me move. Then in the end she takes away the carrot. Erik does not enjoy being taunted.

She looked uncomfortable even though it was her that had picked that chair out for Erik. I could not understand why she was so uneasy in it. Had she just picked it out for Erik's sake? I had told her to pick an armchair that she had liked best when she was on the surface. I also told her that I would pay for it. Did she think it was for Erik's sake? Erik had bought it for her, after all he rarely wasted time with any useless luxury such as a fancy bed or chair even gourmet food was meaningless to him. He preferred to spend his money on more useful things such as fine parchment paper, maybe a new pen and ink or a new musical instrument. Never on anything normal people would want.

Christine was staring at me as I day dreamt. I cleared my throat in embarrassment. I was just about to talk but she said something first.

"Am I free to go?" She asked abruptly. I was surprised. She had never asked this before, maybe the scare from the morphine was taking effect already.

"Of course my dear, this has never been a prison. You may go whenever you please. But please come back." I said pleadingly.

She looked mystified.

"Why would I not return? Right now Raoul will be quite angry with me so I think I should go see him. I will come back soon though." She added hastily.

I nodded as I pondered this. Normally I would not doubt her word to come back to see me. But since she discovered the grotesque secret I held, I was no longer certain.

"Erik, I will come back but you must read the note I have left for you." She said as she gestured to the table that held my music scores. I noticed that the paper that she had tried to give to me was on the table.

I gently guided her over to the gate without touching her and said goodbye. Not for the last time I hoped.

I took a deep breath to stop myself from trembling and walked over to the table of which she had left the note on. I picked it up and opened it.


	5. Chapter 5

**I can't believe I forgot the disclaimer before, I am such an idiot! I do not own POTO, they unfortunately belong to Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay na dALW. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's basically a review of the last chapter. The next chapter will be more interesting though. Two new characters emerge and we learn some very interesting things. Oh, and I have been writing the final chapters (not that we're even close there yet) so between that, school and basketball I won't have much time to write chapter 6 but I will post it within the next week or two. I promise...**

Chapter 5 (Daroga)

I waited above the surface waiting for Ms. Daae to come back. She would come back I tried convinced myself. He would not hold her prisoner for her past sins of leaving him. He had never shown this much passion towards a girl before, I thought he truly wished her to be happy. You can never be sure with Erik though. His mind is a twisted corrupted thing these days, infected by his own dark genius. I was not sure if he had always been like this, though I had suspicions he had not. He acted like he had manners drummed into him from a very young age. Never forgetting to say 'please' and 'thank you' or anything such as. I had even seen him tip his hat to a man he had killed. How could this have happened? To him? To anyone? I thought despairingly.

I shivered slightly. Although my cloak was lined by fur it was a very cold winter night and I could feel the wind cut through my cloak and shirt. Persia was often much warmer than this cold and dismal place. Though Paris did have its good points. Like the Opera house for example. Erik did a magnificent job constructing it, that I could at least give him credit for. I had learned that he had helped Charles Garnier build the Opera house, Credit should be given where credit is due, or so I believe. Though he is a murder and a thief his eye and ear for the arts is unsurpassable, by anyone. La Cathedral de Notre dame Paris is also very beautiful. And the Conciergerie is architecture worthy of Erik himself.

In Persia there were so many good memories. Like my house. And those picnics with my son- No, do not think of him! Thinking of him would only bring unnecessary pain, he who I loved more than myself. He who taught me the true meaning of compassion.

I started to actually worry that Erik had held her prisoner she had been down in his dungeon for the better part of 3 hours. I was starting to worry, she had gone down there to simply give him the wedding invitation had she not? I hated to think of what he could do to her for that.

At that moment I heard footsteps through the front lobby of the building. I held my breath in anticipation. Would it be Ms. Daae or would it be Erik trying to escape something horrible that he had done?

I saw a flash of white and exhaled. It was Mademoiselle Daae. But why was she running across the foyer in such desperation? Not in panic or fear, almost in eagerness, joyful eagerness!

She reached me, her breathing heavy. She smiled up at me but then a look of sadness crossed her face.

"We must go now!" She said urgently pulling on my arm. "He will open the invitation soon! I have no doubt of it!"

I was about to agree, I could wait for her to tell me what had happened down in his lair. Right now our safety came first. Though I thought about hesitating I remembered Erik when he was enraged. My wounds from our previous encounter still stung.

I stood there considering my options, Erik was getting very old but he was still as agile and nimble as a cat, he could easily find us here.

I was about to follow her when I heard his enraged cry from the cellars of the opera house. It didn't seem human. It was more animal, made of raw emotion pain, anguish and dejection. I felt myself curl up with instinctive fear. It went past all mortal feelings of despair and rejection. I wanted to put my hands over my ears. The cry brought tears to my eyes. It also sent a shiver down my spine. The cry was as beautiful as an angel's yet as tormented as the devil's. I had always been afraid of Erik but this brought my fear to a new level. I had known him through many stages of his life including his first encounter with opium, his employment to the Shah and I had never heard him utter such a sound as this.

The cry had only lasted a moment but it echoed in my ears, tormenting me. I sensed that deep down below there was a fallen angel crying.

I looked and saw Ms. Daae with a shock of emotion across her face. It seemed as if she were in physical pain! I looked away from her face pulling her away from the opera house. She had a dazed look on her face, as if she were not really there as I led her through the empty streets of Paris. I could have been a prostitute and she would have not known the difference, or so I feared. I was quite concerned for her; Erik's cry seemed to have sent her into denial. I wanted her to snap out of it but she would not!

I was afraid to leave her by herself. I did not think it would be wise for her lover to see her like this. I decided to bring her back to my flat. Not that I would do anything inappropriate to her, no she already had two men vying for her love, she needn't one more.

I slowly guided her back to my flat on the rue do ravoli. I showed her the guest bedroom and insisted that she go right to sleep and recover from this traumatic day. Surprisingly she listened to me, I did not expect it. I myself went out to a pub and drank myself into a stupor.

I woke up the next morning with a headache and cursed myself for being such an idiot and drinking well past my limit. I was concerned for Ms. Daae. Was she going to be alright to-day? I sincerely hoped so. But who knew?

It took me quite a bit to get out of my bed without falling. When I did I stumbled into the kitchen shocked at what I found.

When I walked into the kitchen I found Ms. Daae preparing breakfast for the both of us. She turned to me and gave a great smile and said.

"Good to see that you have woken, when I last checked you were into very deep unconsciousness."

I blushed slightly knowing that she could have smelled the alcohol in my room when she entered.

She sat down at my table and served me coffee and rolls, cheese and fruit. A normal Parisian meal.

When we were done eating she cleared the table like a person that lived here. She sat down at the table once again and said looking slightly abashed.

"Thank you very much monsieur. If you had not taken me here last night I fear that I would be with my father in heaven right now. I was not in control of myself. My senses were very distorted from his cry."

"Of course I understand, mademoiselle. His voice is an assault on all the senses. I understand completely. Think nothing of it. You have given me a gift far greater than my saving your life" I said modestly.

She looked perplexed. "What have I given you?" She asked mystified.

"Well, not only have you saved my life, you have shown someone who I never thought could feel anything besides rage and loneliness compassion. You have saved him as well as me." I explained.

She stiffened. "How did I save your life? And what do you mean compassion? After I left he has become more violent than before! And he still does not practice any religion! What have I done for him?" She was almost shouting by the end of her sentence.

"My dear, when I wandered into his lair, twenty years before he would have killed me, no matter how much I meant to him. He would have no regrets about killing me. But instead he let me live, all because of you. You think that you have not taught him compassion? So many years ago, in the Shah's court he would have killed hundreds of people if someone rejected him as you did. He would have found some way to blame them all. This time he took responsibility for what happened. My dear, you have taught him the most valuable lessons in life! Love!" I said trying to stay composed. It did not work.

She looked livid. She then calmed herself and said.

"Monsieur, please do not jump to the conclusions that I did this. It could have been anyone, he has known many people. I doubt that I am the only one who has affected him."

"No, Mademoiselle. Until you he locked himself away in that solitary dungeon. He looked for love nowhere and expected it nowhere. Then you came. You gave him a soul. Until you appeared he had no conscience. I was his conscience and he was fine with that! It did not matter to him about good and evil! He only thought of the future and would do anything to get there! Even murder!" I said breathing heavily after the long speech. My lungs were burning from the alcohol I had drank the previous night.

Christine stared at me as though I was mad. I sighed in resignation.

"Think whatever you believe. I know that what I say is the truth. He has had no conscience until you came, for that I thank you." I said then turned to leave the room.

"Wait monsieur!" She called out to me. "Did he really have no conscience?"

I smiled and turned around then said

"Sit down child and let me tell you a tale about our dear friend, his trip to Persia, the Shah, the Khanum and a torture chamber built of mirrors."

We sat in the foyer and I told her the story of Erik and his years in Persia in the Shah's palace. I also told her of the torture chamber he built that was a replica of the one in the opera house. She sat there enraptured in the story of a deformed man who never learned to love.

After I was done telling my tale there was a tense moment of silence. I wondered if I had frightened her. I saw her stiffen when I was telling her about the opium but she had showed no emotion after that.

I was worried, maybe I shouldn't have told her about his past. I thought she would be different from all those weak women, I thought she would accept him. Could I have been wrong?

She covered her face with her palms and asked in despair

"Oh God, I agreed to go down there again, I promised to return. What shall I do now?"

I stiffened with alarm.

"Do not go down there again! It is too dangerous! You should have never promised him that! Break your promise and leave Paris at once! It would be best if you moved out of the country if you could. You must go where his eyes will not find you!" I said harshly.

She just sat there with her head in her hands. I immediately felt guilty for speaking to a lady in such a way.

"My dear tell me what happened down in his lair." I asked gently trying not to scare her.

She looked up at me. She though very hard for a moment.

"I...I don't remember everything but I can tell you what happened from my point of view." She said uncertainly.

"Yes, my dear please do." I said encouragingly.

She took a deep breath and started her story.

"I remember that I tried to give him the invitation but he would not take it, he demanded that I tell him the news myself. I refused we then started to argue. He told me very little about his mother, only mentioning that she hated him. I then tried to argue but he would not accept my words. He then removed his shirt in a moment of blind rage and let me see his scars that his mother had inflicted on him. He then ran from the room in blind panic. I was utterly oblivious, why had he run from me? I wandered into his drawing room waiting for him to return. I then looked upon the table and found his morphine and needle. He must have realized that I had found it for he came rushing out of his room moments later..." She continued with her story, my horror growing with every sentence. Erik what have you done to this girl? She sounds so miserable! Have you twisted her mind into a sad, unfortunate thing like yours?

"I cannot remember what happened after he grabbed me." She confided ending her tale. I was aghast, he had given her such an injury that her head was damaged! She must have noticed the expression on my face because she explained it to me in further detail.

"Do not be concerned monsieur; I can assure you this is quite normal every time I fall unconscious. This, unfortunately, is quite often."She explained hastily. I breathed a sigh of relief. Good, it was not the first time she had fallen unconscious and the other times she had not fallen by Erik's hand.

I was satisfied knowing that there were some people in this world he could not bear to hurt, he did have a human side to him. Even though he claims he does not. He does have a soul and this girl here is enough to prove this fact.

I began to wonder whether Erik was as hateful, sadistic and merciless as I had thought. He seemed to be showing more humanity the longer he knew this girl. I could understand, even being in a room with her for a few hours had affected me. Her purity and unawareness was astounding. It could affect even the most hardened man. Love, peace, kindness and purity is the wonder of the universe. One could not comprehend all that it is capable of doing. Not me, nor apparently, Erik. I had not met such a person as Christine before, she was a survivor, unlike so many others she survived. I could admire her for that at least.

I awoke with a started realizing that Mademoiselle Daae had been calling my name and that I had not heard. I really must learn to be a better host.


	6. Chapter 6

**The promised 6th chapter. Here we meet two new characters. Don't worry, although they are OC's they are not Mary Sues. No offense but I despise Mary , Poor Erik in this chapter. Can he not have any peace? And why can't he kill people? I do enjoy torturing Erik sometimes**. **Oh, and here's a random fact. Kieran means dark one in some language. Am I forshadowing? Not that I can think of. but you never know... Anyway please review! These reviews brighten up my day considerably. **

**POTO (c) Gaston Leroux**

**Kieran and Christian (c) me!  
**

Chapter 6 (Kieran)

I paced back and forth throughout my home, occasionally hearing cries of pain coming from my son's room. I felt despicable, I was sick to the bottom of my stomach. My son who was on his 13th year was in so much pain and suffering. I was not fit to be a father. My wife had passed away but four years ago and I felt as if I was now losing my son as well.

'Christian, I am so sorry! My boy, it sounds as if you are dying in there with that despicable doctor who it seems is hurting you! If I had been a better father this would have never happened! If only... If only...' I thought in deep black despair.

I remembered the first day that he had been borne, my wife had been barely at the age of 16 I was in my 18th year. We had never expected to have a son, we talked about killing him after he was borne, it seemed the kindest thing to do at the time. We were not at all certain we were ready to have a child together. Of course we loved each other with a passion but this was a new responsibility, a child! A living breathing human! We decided to wait and see what our future prospects would be. Such a gift our son was! He is truly the light of my life! I fell in love with him the moment I first saw him. His golden hair gleaming in the halo of sunlight. His sky blue eyes glinting with warmth, I could not kill such a beautiful creature! He was truly sent down from heaven! He never cried, not once! He had such a good temperament. He laughed, and such a beautiful laugh that was! He had the voice of an angel. Though he had his mother's temperament his looks came from me. His hair was a shade lighter than mine and his eyes contrasted my dark, stormy blue ones. His build was slight and wiry. He would never do physical work. But his writing! Oh his writing could only be described as of a genius! His poetry rival to Shakespeare's! The only thing he did not excel at was mathematics. I was quite concerned about this in fact, but I had let it slip through the cracks. I was a doting father, it was my nature.

But now I might lose him forever like my wife! If that happens I will have nothing to live for, nothing! His sickness started out with him coming home from school complaining about a shortness of breath. I was mildly concerned but not very. The common cold was coming around to everyone so I just sent him to get some bed rest and have some broth. The very next day he was vomiting blood and could only breathe in short gasps. He was dying, I knew it yet I could not admit it to myself. Of what? We did not know. Many doctors had come to look but could not tell us what was wrong. They had done many painful tests, I knew they were painful but yet Christian never complained or wept. He was one of the strongest people alive, or so I believed. But this all brought me back to five years ago....

Five years before....

My wife Mary was ready to have another child, we both agreed on this. She was now 24 and could bear more children. We thought that Christian was old enough to have the responsibility of a younger sibling. We were so thrilled! We had been young before but now we were older and we could handle the responsibility better. Not that we didn't take care of Christian, no this was not the case at all! In fact you could say we were overly loving! But we now wanted another child. Christian was growing up quite quickly and we realized that he would be gone soon. No longer in need of us. He was 8, still cute and had childish innocence but he would grow soon. We were prepared for this, although we would not be looking forward to it. So the natural decision was to have another child. Hopefully a girl this time. We needed to balance out the family.

We did not tell Christian, we wanted it to be a surprise so we tried to keep it a secret as long as we possibly could. We did not know she was even going to have a child until 3 months later. Then she started to get unwell. We did not realize what was wrong at first. We thought it was the side effects of the pregnancy. Then we found out she had cancer in the lungs from her father's cigar smoke from when she was younger. We kept a bright attitude with Christian around. We could not afford to let her die. Not with him and the new child that was forming inside of her. She was concerned that it might be harmed because of her sickness. I convinced her that it would not happen. Then her health began to steadily decline. The eventually she could not move or breathe very well. She and our child died three days after that. Christian still did know of the sibling we had conceived for him.

Her funeral was days later. We were both Roman Catholic so she was buried in the churchyard. I will always remember that day. It was a cold, wintery February, the service had ended but an hour ago and everyone except Christian and I had left. We were sitting at her grave no speaking. He looked so handsome and perfect in his tuxedo then but I could not think of that, not then. His eyes were red from shedding so many tears. He knew that she was dead; he knew that she was gone forever and I did not have to tell him this. He knew already. Then he suddenly started sobbing and tearing at the cold ground and snow with his hands.

"She can't be dead; she can't be!" He cried out in anguish. The cold snow carving into his hands, bloodying them. All I could do was sit there and watch him stupidly, I could not comfort him, I could not even comfort myself! He collapsed to the ground a sobbing wreck. Only then did I have the courage to go over to him and wrap my arms around his tiny shoulders.

"We will be alright" I whispered. "We will live for her." All he could do was shake violently and nod his head.

And back to the present...

I remembered that day and slumped down in despair. Now he might not live at all. What had he done to deserve this? He was such a sweet, loving boy. Now he was suffering for some unknown sin. I only with that we knew what was wrong. I would give my life to save his. I sat down in a chair outside of his door. The cries had turned to whimpers. I could barely hear him any longer.

A moment later the doctor came out of the room. He looked exhausted. I immediately felt bad for calling him an awful doctor. He was trying the best he could to save my son, it's just that he couldn't do anything...

He took me into the foyer. He looked fairly nervous.

"Sir, this is something I have never seen before and I'm afraid that I cannot cure it. It seems to be wasting him from the inside." He said sympathetically.

I had an urge to put my hands over my ears as a child would have.

"Is there nothing we can do? Is there no one who can cure him?" I asked in anguish.

He looked hesitant for a moment but decided to continue on.

"Sir, I do not usually tell my normal patients about this man, he is the best doctor I have ever come across but I do not trust him completely. Since this is such a unique case I will tell you this time. He is most likely to be the only one to have seen this illness." He said carefully.

"Yes! Tell me where he is! I need to know!" I said as a saw a glimmer of light in the blackness.

"He is a very unusual man, he lives in the cellars of the Opera house. And whatever you do, do not mention his face!" He then continued to give directions to get to this man's lair. I listened intently, memorizing each detail. My son's life depended on this.

The doctor bid me farewell and wished me well. But before he could leave the house I asked him.

"Sir! What is this man's name?" He stopped and stood in the doorway for a few moments. Then he eventually spoke.

"I am sorry monsieur. I do not know." He then rushed out the door to heal more patients.

I stood there for a moment then wondered what I was waiting for. My son could be dying this very moment! I must find this man! I quickly hailed a cab and although it was late ordered it towards the Paris opera house.

Minutes later I was standing in front of the ruined Opera house. Everyone had heard about the unfortunate chandelier fall but I had never seen the damage with my own eyes.

It was spectacular! The wreckage was amazing. I carefully wove my way in between the wreckage, narrowly avoiding many close calls with death. Then I came to the trap door that the doctor had described. I took a deep breath and lifted it open and looked into the darkness. I saw that it was safe inside and that there was a path. I gently eased myself into the door and walked through the darkness.

I had to reign my instinct to flee. I had to keep reminding myself that this was for Christian and not another. The path was cold and moist, I was shaking violently after a few moments of walking through it.

Then I stepped out into a wide space. Warmth filled my body. This must be the place; this must be where the person who could save my son resides. I exhaled sharply, this was it, this was the moment of truth. What would this man look like? Why had the doctor warned me not to be curious about his face? I was suddenly struck by a terrible thought. What if he was not awake? I could not come back, Christian might die before I did. This was no time for sleep, I would wake him and not take no for an answer. I looked around for a moment. Then I wondered if I could find him in this huge space. But I was tired and determined that I would. I then stepped out of the mouth of the tunnel into the water below me.

The water was warm. But I could not afford to think of that now. Then I saw something in the water, it was a shiny object, I then reached down to pick it up.

Then just as I bent down a dagger flew above my head. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up with fear. Had I not bent down I would have been impaled and surely killed. I straightened up again and looked at the object I owed my life to. It was a ring, a beautiful ring. And it had two letters engraved on it. C.D. I wondered what they could stand for? But I now had more pressing matters to attend to. Someone had just tried to kill me.

"Damn! I missed _again!_ How many visitors must I have in one day? And why can I not kill any of them?" I heard an angeletic voice cry exasperated from the back of the room. I strained my eyes to see the face behind the voice. His voice was so beautiful! It made me want to weep for forgiveness. My very soul wanted to give itself to the owner of this voice!

"Why have you come down to my lair? You realize that now that you have seen it I will have to kill you?" The voice asked coldly stepping from the shadows. I gasped. Not because of his threat but because of the face that the voice belonged to.

The man was skinny and lanky, like a boy around Christian's age. But he was not a boy; he was a man much older than myself. His hands looked cold and moist; they had the appearance of a skeleton's. But then my eyes made it up to his face, well not his face exactly but the mask which covered half of his face. His eyes glowed golden in the darkness, like a cat's eyes. His movements were like liquid, flawless and agile. The expression in his eyes were murderously angry. Yet I could not bring my eyes away from his beauty. I had a sudden longing o see what was behind the mask, surely it must be as beautiful as the rest of this man!

"Did you not hear me? I asked why you have come down to my lair. Have you come to meet and see the Fantome de l'opera yourself? Or did _she _send you down here? Too frightened of me to come herself I presume." He glided gracefully over to me.

Then in a moment he took me by the shoulders and shook me hard.

"Speak monsieur! Speak! I presume you can, unless of course you are a mute. Then I have no use for you!" He let go and took a step back as to leave. This is when I found my voice again.

"Please monsieur! Wait! My son, I need you to help my son! He is dying of an unknown disease and I hear only you can cure it!" I cried.

He stopped abruptly and turned around to face me.

"How old is your son?" He demanded.

"He is on his 13th year." I said weakly, relieved that he had not left.

"Of course." He muttered to himself. "It's always the children who suffer."

I was about to disagree when he spoke to me.

"Sir," He said mockingly. "Surely there are more _qualified_ doctors than me above the surface who could treat this illness."

I shook my head before all the words were out of his mouth.

"Non, monsieur. I have had twenty-something doctors look at him and they could not identify it.

He looked mildly impressed.  
"More than twenty doctors? My, you really must care for your son."

"Sir, please, please come help my son! He is likely to die soon!" I said on the verge of tears. "I'm begging you!"

He thought for many moments, I was so frightened that he would say no and that Christian would die. Then he said:

"Very well monsieur, let me get my things." And wandered off into a room to fetch his bag.

I took a long look around his lair. Candles and roses were everywhere, there was also many hallways leading to even more doors. I then remembered the ring in my hand. I wondered who it could have belonged to, then gently placed it in my pocket.

I wondered where all those doors led to. Surely opening one or two would not hurt!

I walked over to one and was about to open it when the masked man came back and said calmly.

"I would not go in there if I were you. You will meet a painful demise. My torture chamber never does lose."

I snatched my hand back as though something had bit it.

"May we go now?" I asked shakily.

"Of course." Was his calm reply.

I showed him where my house was and he immediately ran up the stairs towards Christian's room. He shoved the door open and stalked in.

When he finally set eyes on him he stopped, appalled. Christian's sheets were blood soaked from his coughing. And the boy himself was a wreck. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes, he was as skinny as a broom. Yet somehow he managed a smile when I came into the room.

"Hello father. Are you here to help me with my arithmetic?" He asked jokingly motioning to some papers in front of him.

"Christian, where are your manners? Can you not see that we have a guest?" I reprimanded him though it pained me to do so. He then turned to the man, he seemed unconcerned about the mask.

"I'm sorry monsieur, I did not see you there. Please forgive my ignorance. Would _you_ like to help me with my paperwork?" He asked. I sighed, exasperated but not angry. He was always trying to get out of arithmetic but if he had written homework he would be glad to do it!

The masked man glanced at me.

"I am very sorry, my boy but it seems as though your father would like me to take a look at your illness." He said softly, his angel's voice held amusement though.

Christian visibly slumped in his bed.

"I see, you are another one of _them_" He said bitterly. He had a reason I believe. Christian hates doctors. Ever since they could not cure his mother he has hated them.

"I am not just one thing, I am many, I am a composer, an architect , a writer, a doctor, a magician and a genius." He said vehemently. "Do not lump me together with human fools who can only master one art!" I was shocked, of course he sounded like an angel but he could not possibly be one. He must be a human!

But Christian looked thoughtful.

"I suppose you could say that, but what about people who don't know better? Or don't have the... capacity to learn as much as you? Why do you hold them in such contempt? It is not their fault that they cannot learn." My son said with flawless logic, his voice matching the beauty of the masked man's.

The man grimaced.

" Sir, I could find a way to hold the world responsible for whatever I wished. Do not cross me!" He said menacingly. I shuddered from the malice in his voice but Christian look mad.

"Is that a threat?" He asked coldly. I could feel the intensity between them. I could also see the similarities.

"I rarely waste time making threats, but if you perceive it as so, then yes I suppose that it could be considered a threat." The man replied equally coldly.

This was physically tasking for Christian, his breathing was abnormal and he was glaring at the stranger. He was about to make a reply when he started a violent coughing fit. He was coughing blood onto the sheets at the end of it.

The man immediately ran up to him and wiped up all the blood. Christian just glared at him, unable to speak. The man spoke to Christian in a clipped voice after examining the blood.

"Open your mouth."

Christian refused to do it, I felt helpless. I could do nothing but stand and watch. This was between the two of them, I was an intruder as far as they were concerned but they put up with me.

The man roughly grabbed Christian's mouth and forced it open. He had a certain fire in his eyes. Like madness, or perhaps even fear.

He looked down the boys through with a certain carelessness, like he didn't care what he saw. As long as he got this done soon.

Moments later he stood up appalled. He muttered something in another language, German perhaps? I did not know. He then turned to me, calming himself. I was expecting the worst. Perhaps I raised my hopes and expectations too high and he did not know this illness like every other doctor. Then he spoke.

"I have not seen this illness for a very long time, it is curable but it will take a very long time and there will be... side effects." He said uncertainly.

I sank down to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I did not care that Christian was watching me as if I were insane. _He was going to live!_ But I then fully comprehended his words.

"What kind of side effects?" I asked curiously.

"We shall have to find out won't we? For know we will watch and then see if we know. Now I will have to make an infusion of herbs. If you would be so kind as to show me the kitchen...?" He asked looking down on me.

I stood up, slightly embarrassed that this man had seen my weakness.

As we were walking down the stairs the man asked

"What is the boy's name? I will need to know it if I plan to address him. I will need to come here every day until he is fully recovered. I will need to make sure that he is progressing in his health."

I was glad that he was going to be coming back- I do not think that I could bear not hearing his voice for more than a day. At least not until Christian was better.

"His name is Christian." I informed him.

The reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and held me up to the wall. His eyes were burning with pain and suffering. And despair. Despair beyond what I had ever seen before. It seemed as if this despair came from the bottom of his soul. Some scar that had never healed, one that was an empty black hole. Like when Mary died, though I highly doubt that neither Christian nor I combined could sum this amount of pain.

"What is his name." He whispered menacingly in my ear.

"C-Christian." I stammered shocked that I had provoked such a violent emotion in this man.

He let me go with weary resignation. I fell to the floor. My legs were shaking from such a shock.

"I am very sorry monsieur. This is not your fault I should not have let my temper get the best of me." He apologized, he then took a deep breath and said. "We shall now see if Christian is strong enough to endure pain that no other had experienced."

I was frightened of this man. So very frightened. Yet in that moment when I looked into his eyes I saw a sliver of humanity, of grief. I pitied this man as well.

I showed him all the necessary items he needed to make the infusion then retreated to a corner.

He stood there for an hour or so making this liquid. He occasionally cursed or yelled aloud in rage. Then, though I cannot swear to it I heard him mutter.

"Christine, Christine why? Why..."

I wondered what was behind that mask that had made him like this. I had a feeling now that there was a serious deformity behind it that was not fit for the human eyes, yet I had to know! But not to-day. No not to-day I have already enraged him enough.

When he was finished he said abruptly breaking the silence

"I am done, we shall go see how Christian fairs with this shall we?"

I nodded and followed him up the stairs into Christian's room once again.

Christian was reading when we walked in. He looked up with joy when he saw me. Love and idolism in his eyes. Then his eyes shifted over to the man's. They lost the love and idolism but they were still warm.

"Hello sir, once again." He greeted him. The man acknowledged him with a swift nod of the head. He walked over to his bed and put a glass in his hand.

"Drink this, it will make you feel better." He said.

Christian glanced over at me to see if it was alright. I nodded my head and then he drank it. He looked up at the man once again and made a face.

"Does it have to be so bitter?" He asked.

Then suddenly the man laughed and said

"I should have known you would have liked it sweet, but one can never be too sure." He ruffled my son's hair affectionately. "I will sweeten it with honey next time how does that work for you?"

My son's eyes lit up.

"You are coming again? When?" He asked eagerly.

"Every day until you get better. Who will make you take your medicine Certainly your father can't. And what about your mother?" The man said amusement still in his voice.

Christian and I stiffened at the same time.

"Do not speak of my mother so carelessly." Christian seethed.

The man looked shocked, they were genuinely bonding one moment and the next Christian was practically telling him to stop talking.

"I apologize, Christian I will not speak of her again." He said formally.

Christian grew eager again. He looked as if he were going to start bouncing up and down in his bed.

"Did you not say before that you were a musician? May I show him some of my sheet music father?" He asked turning to me. I nodded. His operas were better than any writer in the world, but I was afraid of his fame. So we kept the music a secret, but this man could be trusted. That's what my instincts were telling me.

He reached over to a draw on his night table and grabbed about twenty papers and gave them to the man. I look over his shoulder but the things on the sheets made no sense to me. As I could not read music.

The man took a quick glance over the sheet as if not expecting much. He then read it more closely.

"Who wrote this?" He asked callously.

"I did!" Christian volunteered. He looked happy, unable to see the coldness in the man's eyes.

"Stop lying to me! No child could of written this!" He said enraged. Christian looked hurt.

"I did too, here I'll play it for you without the music." He said. He strained to sit up, though not as much as he had the night before.

I walked over to him and helped him to the piano. He sat down and corrected his posture. Then he started to play. His hands ran over the keys in effortless grace. I saw Christian close his eyes and listen to the music inside of his head. No longer paying attention to his fingers.

The man's eyes widened in wonderment behind the mask. He was quite obviously impressed. Minutes later Christian stopped playing. He looked at me eagerly.

"How was that father? Was that good enough this time?" He asked.

I ruffled his hair in affection.

"That was very well done son. Have you been practicing while I have been working?" I asked.

He looked down and blushed.

"A little bit, sometimes I would lose track of time and play too much though."

I nodded my head, remembering the times when I have come home and he was sitting at the piano sleeping.

He then turned to the man.

"Do you now believe me? I really did write those!" He exclaimed.

He nodded his head.

"Yes, Christian I do believe you. Have you taken lessons for the voice?" He asked as though it pained him.

Christian shook his head

"No sir. I have not had voice lessons before." He then brightened "Do you know how to sing? Will you teach me?"

The man stiffened and gave a great cry.

"You must never ask me that! Never! Do you understand me?" He shouted.

Christian looked frightened

"Yes, of course sir. Please forgive me." He whispered.

This seemed to calm him down.

"Never mind, I must go now. I am expecting someone to return. Hopefully she does...." He trailed off into deep thought. He then started walking towards the door. Without looking back.

Then Christian shouted out

"Wait sir! Tell us your name! Your name!"

The man stopped but did not turn around.

"The Phantom of the Opera. I have not been called that in a very long time. I think I shall enjoy being called that name again. Yes, very much indeed." He then left without another word.

Christian and I looked at each other. The Phantom of the Opera was strange. Very strange indeed...


	7. Chapter 7

**Once again another update. Compared to my other chapters this one is quite short. Next POV will probably be Raoul's we haven't heard from him in a bit have we? Anyway enjoy chapter 7 and I hope that it has a good enough cliff hanger.**

**I do not own POTO. I can only dream. The characters, unfortunately do not belong to me either.  
**

Chapter 7 (Christian)

He came back every day. He did. Every day without fail. He stayed for hours at a time. We would talk about music and many other things. Some days he sang for me. His voice reduced me to tears. Such a haunting, beautiful sound. My voice could never compare to it. People call my voice the voice of an angel but this can only apply to this man, the Phantom of the Opera.

We never talked about painful things. I never talked about my mother and he never talked about anything really. I made damned sure to stay away from the suggestion of sing lessons again. His reaction the first time had scared me off. He looked as if he truly wanted to kill me for that! But he could not, could he? Could this man with the voice of an angel have the dark soul of the devil?

I refused to believe it. Just as I refused to question his mask. I did not care about what was behind it. I was slightly curious but not enough to ask or actually take it off. To me that would be worse than death to him, or so it led me to believe. As opposed to me Father seemed obsessed with that mask. We would not stop talking about it after the Phantom left. I wondered why he was so obsessed with it. Sure it was mysterious and a little frightening but, it was just a mask most likely holding a serious deformity, one that was so bad that the world needed not to see it. I respected his privacy. Mostly because I had a face that everyone seemed to love to pinch and admire. If it was up to me I would rather have a deformed face than a pretty one. But to each his own I suppose , or maybe I wasn't thinking this all the way through.

Whenever he came I would beg for him to tell me his real name but he refused to tell me. He told me it was not to be spoken on pure lips such as mine. It was a name filled with darkness, only to curse the speaker with incredible despair. I wonder what this meant. He rarely called me by name as well, when he did he would flinch as if someone had hit him. Once I heard him mutter after he said my name.

"She has still not returned, Christine you promised!" But he whispered it softly that I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had heard. That name that he had muttered was so close to my own!

He made me swallow a foul smelling mixture every time he came it tasted quite good, well it did after he sweetened it with honey. I did not care for bitter tastes. After the first time he made me swallow that substance I had hated it. It was far too bitter for me. He just smiled and told me he had thought so. This puzzled me, how could he already know all those things about me if he had never met me before?

He seemed to know so much about me, but I think that father had told him most of these things. Father absolutely doted on me. It never really occurred to me to feel embarrassed or ashamed of this display of affection. This is how it had always been, with mother and father. Other children my own age would always taunt me about this but I did not really care. Let them taunt me. At least I had parents that I knew loved me.

The Phantom never talked about his parents. I had a feeling that he didn't have anyone to love him as people loved me. He was always so bitter to everyone. And whenever father hugged or kissed in affection he discreetly turned away, pretending to be busy with some other thing. After a while I started to resist father's affection gestures. As well-meaning as he was he was hurting my friend.

My friend. It didn't really occur to me that we were friends now. But slowly we did. It was an unlikely event. It was an unspoken agreement. Neither of us talked about it, we did not have to. We could feel it in the air, I thought it quite obvious. Though perhaps the Phantom and I are more perceptive than most people.

Father came home from work one day and I had been practicing my piano skills, I wanted to impress the Phantom. After the first day he refused to praise my piano skills. I was trying hard to get them so that he would at least be satisfied with them.

"Hello father! Did you have a good day at work?" I asked him bouncing from the chair. I had recovered my strength in the weeks that the Phantom had come.

He ruffled my hair. " I think we may win this one Christian!" He told me. Father was a lawyer. I loved how he would talk to me for hours about his cases and not spare me in detail. He did not treat me as a child when talking about work.

"Now run and change into your good clothes Christian. Our mysterious Phantom will be coming soon." Father said at the end of our discussion. I eagerly ran up the stairs. This was the only time that father would permit me to wear my good clothes. Well now, and when we visited Mother's grave.

I changed quickly. The Phantom did not tolerate lateness so he always arrived at the same time each day. I needed to be ready for him. The one time that I had been late he almost scared me to death. I had changed late because I was visiting a friend that was also ill. I was now strong enough to go outside and such.

I had spent too much time visiting my friend. I had lost track of the hour and realized that I was late for The Phantom. Luckily I was already dressed in my good clothes. I was running through the streets until I reached my manor. I stood on the front steps gasping for breath. Father then came out and rushed me into the house. Luckily the Phantom had not shown himself yet.

I ran up the stairs to my room to prepare for the visit. As soon as I reached the door's frame I gasped. The man was sitting there reading one of my books and looking quite impatient.

"I'm glad you can join me to-day Christian. And what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He had asked sarcastically.

I had blushed and muttered an excuse. After that I made sure that I was always at home a good twenty minutes before he was to arrive. I still could not figure out how he had entered my bedroom. The windows had been locked and no one had seen him enter the manor. So was the mystery of the Opera Ghost.

To-day I got changed and waited for the Phantom to make his appearance. I did not have to wait long. He breezed into my room shortly after I had put my shirt on. There was something wrong. He looked at me in a strange way, one that I had never seen on his face before. It almost looked like pity, no it looked like concern! But why would he be concerned for me?

"How are you feeling?" He demanded. I was taken aback, he had never asked me this before.

"My head hurts and I am getting fainting spells." I informed him, not mentioning the burning feeling I had began to feel in the right side of my face.

"That is to be expected. Any other symptoms?" He asked again. I hesitated was a moment, should I tell him? No, that would cause unnecessary concern that he needn't feel.

"No." I said.

The Phantom looked doubtful but seemed to let it go.

"I have brought your medicine. Drink it." He commanded handing me a vial. I obediently obeyed and drank the liquid that was in the bottle.

I expected the normal taste of the medicine, the one that was sweet and filled my whole body with warmth. I was thoroughly disappointed. This was a bitter, horrible taste. It tasted like the one he did not sweeten on the very first day.

I started hacking and choking from the taste. I glared up at the Phantom with hostile eyes.

"You...didn't sweeten it!" I managed to gasp through my sputtering. He just shrugged and replied in a bored voice

"It appears that it slipped my mind." I felt white hot anger flash through me. He didn't care in the slightest! After I was done my fit of coughing I said to him coldly

"Get out of my room, you have no right to be here any longer." The man looked startled that I spoke to him in such a way.

"I have every right to be here, considering I saved your miserable life." He hissed.

"I'm sorry you feel that you wasted your precious time on my life. Maybe you should abandon me like you seem to be inclined to do at the moment." I retorted back, my fury growing.

"I would gladly abandon this project at the moment if I did not have a sense of duty which compels me to keep up with this miserable work." He almost growled with anger.

"I'm sorry that you feel compelled to stay here with me. Though I highly doubt you have a choice other than to look after me. How much is my father paying you? 10,000 francs? More?" I replied feeling a tad ruthless, my anger was taking over all my senses. The only thing I could feel was intense, burning heat on the side of my face.

"You have no right knowing any information such as that!" The Phantom said firmly.

"Why? Because I'm right? Are you afraid of me knowing the truth of why you come every-day? Do not fear, I face that fact every-day. I have no friends, I only have people who like my father's money! So if you are afraid of hurting me do not fear, you can't! Not like that anyhow!" I shouted back. Then, suddenly I heard the door from down stairs slam shut and saw my father walk into his carriage outside. It seemed as if he had somewhere rather important to go. Now it was only the Phantom and I in the house.

"You ignorant boy! You know nothing!" He seethed, apparently oblivious to the fact that my father had just left.

"I know nothing? That is true! I know nothing about _you_ monsieur. You hide yourself from everyone. You treat me with cold harsh words most times, but other times, other times you speak gently and praise me as if I were your own son! You hurt me more than anyone when you yell at me! I thought you were my friend!" I shouted. He froze, astonished.

"F-friend?" He asked confused. "I have no friends, everyone avoids me..." He trailed of looking in my eyes.

"No! I was your friend! Friends tease each-other and they are interested in the same things! They laugh together! I was your friend! But you wouldn't pay attention to that! All you cared about was yourself! You thought you would be shunned because of your looks. I can tell you right now that I do not care about what you look like!" I said still shouting. I knew this was beyond rude. But now that Father was no longer home I could tell him what I really felt. I needed to get it through his thick skull.

"What...?" He asked still confused.

"I _said_ that we were friends!" I said lowering my voice into a menacing growl, this man really was impossible.

"You want to be friends with me...a monster?" He whispered awestruck.

"Yes! You finally realize that! Friendship is not formed from looks! It is formed from emotions! I do feel friendly emotions for you! But you keep pushing me away!" My breath was ragged now.

He stood up. Now I was afraid. Where was he going? Was he leaving for good? He must have saw the look of panic on my face for he said

"I need to think. Stay here I will be back up in twenty minutes." Then proceeded to walk downstairs.

A few minutes later I heard the piano play. The song was beautiful. It was mixed with sadness, anger, confusion and something I could not recognize.

I knew what I needed to do. I knew that if I were ever to show him that we were friends, I needed to see what was beneath his mask.

I slowly crept downstairs, avoiding all the creaky parts in the floor. I slowly slipped downstairs without him noticing.

He was too involved with his music to see my hand reach out underneath the mask. He felt my fingers on his flesh. He turned around in horror just as I pulled the mask off.

**I do enjoy cliff hangers. I can't wait to finally write the unmasking scene. I have been waiting for this for a long time. But you might have to wait a while...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the late update. As promised, Raoul's chapter. As I may have mentioned before I am suffering from slight writer's block- o.k who am I kidding? It's pretty bad. I tried to this chapter to the best of my ability, but I really don't know where that is anymore. I really did try for this chapter though. I hope I caught all the emotions correctly. So it is now 3:36 am on a school night (don't worry I don't have school on Friday and we have a sub today.) Anyway, please review! Oh-and for those of you who read my other story, the reason I have not updated in a while is because I lost all of my data on it. I had it all on a USB to take to school and then I lost the USB. So sorry!**

**POTO (c) Gaston Leroux and ALW!**

Chapter 8 (Raoul)

I had not seen Christine for over two weeks. I was starting to worry. I know that she had spent over two weeks in his lair before he let us go, but we could not afford to be parted for over two weeks! The wedding needed to be planned and Giovanni needed to see the Phantom. I was still adjusting to the name 'Erik'. I do not think that such a name suited that monster. His name seemed too innocent, too _human_ for someone like him. But maybe he was not such a monster as I had first thought. After hearing more of Giovanni`s stories (really, there was nothing better to do in that inn.) I began to wonder if the Phantom really was as cruel and evil as we had thought.

I would have to ask Christine what she thought of this idea when she got back. _When._ I would not tolerate the thought that she would not come back. She _had_ to come back! I loved her! She would surely come back to me; I had expressed my love enough times to show her that I truly loved her.

The Phantom would have to let her go as well. He could not hold her against her will. Christine was too brash and stubborn to let that happen. The only way that he would be able to restrain her was if he locked her in his lair. And I highly doubt that he would do that to Christine. He loved her, did he not?

I could no longer think of these things. They were making me sick.

I had decided that a walk around the city would make me feel better. That and people were beginning to wonder where the Viscount de Chagny was. After all I had to appear very often so people did not get suspicious. We could not have them be doubt the next Count de Chagny could we. No, that would be very bad. My brother, Philippe was old and people were saying that he was not fit to be head of the de Chagny clan anymore. Soon his younger brother, Raoul would be taking his place.

Sometimes I do wonder if Christine and I would be better off were I not the Viscount se Chagny. That perhaps, was the reason why people disapproved of our relationship. I knew that people had ridiculed Christine for coming from a humble family. They had accused her of becoming my fiancée only to have the name of the Viscountess de Chagny. This made me extremely angry. That and the fact that I could do nothing about it since they do not say this in my hearing.

I stepped outside of the inn for the first time since Christine had left. I had considered going and paying a visit to the Phantom and demanding to see Christine. I immediately discarded the idea after realizing that he would most likely kill me if I intruded upon his private dwellings. This was something I did not want to see happen. I did rather value my life.

So instead I decided to see my brother, maybe he could offer me some advice on how to deal with Christine. After all, he had so many wives and mistresses that I could not even count the number anymore. Maybe Philippe had a solution for Christine`s depression.

Not that I could ever tell him about the Phantom. No, this would make people think that I should see a doctor in psychiatrics. I feel ashamed that I had once suggested this to Christine. I had thought that she was not in her right mind. All that talk of the Angel of Music! Now I know that it was true, _all of it_!

But there was no Angel of Music, no there was only Erik! Yes...only Erik. But for one unknown reason Christine seemed to worship him. To me this was utterly unconceivable. How on earth Christine could stay with someone like that was unreservedly beyond me. Maybe this was another one of his games. It had to be! Christine could not possibly truly want this man!

Maybe a glass of scotch would be better than Philippe. But no, I had not seen my brother in a very long time. I suppose the visit was due. Philippe really was not a patient man.

I quickly decided that the carriage was not for me. Today I would walk. His manor was not far from the inn. I also needed time to think. Not about Philippe. Of course not. I had a good idea of what I would say to him.

It took every ounce of my strength not to turn around and walk over to the Opera Garnier. I would give Christine two more days before I came after her. Well, maybe I would make that one. I felt like I needed to see her. I needed to!

I tried to push these thoughts from my head as I walked down the street. My eyes were scanning the windows in all the shops as I walked past. I had been walking down a busy street with a number of shops and café`s when I walked past one particular window.

When I was scanning the shops I could really only see one person: Christine. She was everywhere! But they, unfortunately were all a part of my mind's eye. I had just gone past a window of a popular café when I saw her again. As usual I walked past the shop without a second thought. I had seen that illusion enough to know that it was no longer real.

As I walked past the window I stopped. There was something wrong with that Christine. All the others had one thing in common. They had all looked like what I had thought that Christine would be wearing as she walked down the aisle on our wedding day. The Christine that I had saw in that window was not wearing a wedding dress.

I stood there for a few minutes thinking about the window that I had just passed. Then it struck me. It really was Christine! She really was in that shop!

As soon as I realized that, I ran into the cafe. I threw the door open with a ear shattering **BANG**! Everyone looked up from their food and the waiter at the front of the house looked furious. I paid no head to the people that started to exclaim about the noise. Once I lifted my head they fell silent. After all, who would cross the Viscount de Chagny? They knew that if they did their businesses would lose an amount of funding. That is why they were all scared of me.

As the door slammed open Christine also looked up, when she saw me her face lit up. She looked genuinely happy to see me. But was she? Suddenly I had severe doubts. Was she really as happy as she appeared? If she really wanted to see me wouldn't she have come straight back to me? Why did she come here first?

The next thing I noticed as I walked in was the Persian beside her. _What? Why was he there? _ She was with another man?

I tried to push my doubts aside. I would give her a chance to explain herself. I was going to be her husband after all. I could no longer jump to conclusions. I had to try to understand. I really wanted to be a good husband. I had to understand. I had to.

I walked over to Christine.

"Christine! Did he hurt you? Are you alright?" I cried out. Her face lit up when she heard my voice.

"Raoul! How did you find me? I missed you when I was with him!" She replied. Then she looked around and motioned for me to come over to their table when she realized that everybody was staring at her.

"Did you miss me Christine?" I asked her, the sadness apparent in my voice.

He looked shocked, as though she could not fathom why I had asked that.

"Of course I did Raoul! I love you! Why would I not miss you?" She asked.

"_Why_? Are you an idiot? Because of him of course! If you love me as much as you claim why do you keep returning to him?" I asked furious.

Christine became livid.

"Why do I keep returning? It's because I have an obligation to! You cannot possibly understand Raoul, he is my Angel of Music!" She hissed.

"Christine! He is a maniac! A murderer! How can you possibly still think of him as your Angel of Music? He tried to kill me! He would have killed me!" I protested trying to talk some sense into her.

"Well, there must have been a reason for that was there not Raoul?" She snapped.

I was shocked, Christine had never talked to me like this before. What had I done? I had not meant to start a fight, I just wanted to know if she really had missed me.

"Christine! I had come to rescue you! Do you not remember? Has he diluted your mind in the past two weeks? Please answer me!" I asked in dismay.

"I was only with him for three hours! I ran into _him_." She said gesturing to the Persian beside her. "He realized I had a concussion from my visit to Erik's and kindly took me into his home and kept me there to heal. I was going to return to you today. We were having a celebratory lunch before I left!" She explained with vehemence in her voice. All of a sudden all the bewilderment cleared from my mind.

"A...concussion?" I asked in a low voice, trying to control my anger. "He gave you a _concussion_?"

"Yes. No. Wait how did you know Erik's name?" She asked confused. I really did not want to answer that question right now. I had a more pressing matter.

"Never mind about that. How did you let him hurt you? Why did he hurt you?" I asked with as much anger in my voice as she had before. She seemed astonished by the anger in my voice. We had never fought before, even as children. I missed those days. The times when her father would tell us stories and we would have picnics in the attic.

"It is none of your business Raoul on how, or why I got injured. It was a mistake on my part completely. Erik really had nothing to do with it." She replied.

"Oh, so he had nothing to do with it? Then I suppose it was you who gave yourself the concussion! Do you take me for an idiot? Who would I suspect? You, or the mad murder of whose company you had been in?" I asked scathingly.

Christine looked like she was seriously considering stabbing with the steak knife that had been left on the table. I noticed the Persian had hunched over his food as if that could protect him.

"Raoul-" Christine started. I cut her off.

"We should talk outside."

She obediently marched outside, fury radiating from her every movement.

"You will be paying for Christine's meal." I whispered to the Persian. He stiffened then nodded.

Christine and I started to walk towards the inn when we reached the street.

"Why do you want to talk to me out here _Raoul_?" She asked sarcastically.

"Christine, do not talk like that. I think that we should cease this meaningless argument-" I tried to say.

"Do not tell me this is a meaningless argument Raoul! I have been gone for two weeks and you did not even bother to come looking for me!" She yelled. People were staring at us as we walked by.

"What did you expect me to do? You left on your own accord! I did not feel like getting killed for intruding on his lair again!" I exclaimed. Why did she not understand?

"Are you trying to tell me that you care more about yourself than me? Did you honestly think that I would come out unscathed?" Christine asked disbelievingly.

"Yes. I mean no. I do not know! I thought that you were the last person who he would try to hurt!"

"Well obviously you thought wrong! Because I ended up getting hurt Raoul! And where were you to come help? Oh yes, I forgot, you were sitting in our room cowering from that man!"

"I was not cowering!"

"Then what were you doing Raoul? Preserving your well being? I see, I suppose that is why you are standing here, perfectly fine and I just went through a traumatic experience. And of course my _fiancée_ soon to be _husband _was nowhere in sight! Nice to know you care about my well being Raoul!" She said bitterly.

"I _do _care about you Christine! Why do you not believe me? Everything I have done, I have only had your best interests in mind! And you are right. I _will_ be your husband soon! I care about you beyond reason! That is why I cannot permit you to continue seeing that man! He will inevitably always end up hurting you!" I protested.

"You will not permit me to see him?" She growled, looking stunned. "You cannot tell me what to do!"

"Can't I? I will be your husband in a couple of weeks, then I will legally own you! You will belong to _me_!" I said with an air of certainty. She would be mine! Not his!

"You know, I remember Erik saying something like that once. Except you make it sound more _possessive_ and for your information, _I belong to no one_!" She said forcefully.

"Yes, like every other household woman you will be mine!" I argued, annoyed. Women were to belong to men. That was the way it had always been. And when a man and a woman got married it took it to a different level. The man was expected to take control of the woman!

"I do not want to be another household woman! Why can you not understand that? Things have changed Raoul! I am no longer the Little Lottie you once knew! I am different!"

"Christine! When I am your husband you will do as I say, it is a fact that all women must deal with! Please do not make this any harder than it has to be! I do not _want_ to treat you this way! It is expected of me!" I explained, trying to make her understand. _Why did women have to be so difficult?_

"When you are my husband? I am afraid that is no longer possible, my dear pal. It seems like those days are over! I now reject your proposal!" Christine yelled as she yanked her ring off and flung it at me. The tiny object hit me in the shoulder and fell to the ground. I did not even feel it. I stood there shocked.

What had she just said? She rejected me? Impossible! We had been best friends before! Now we were lovers!

I observed Christine still standing in front of me. She was breathing heavily. Then she turned to leave.

"I am going to find somewhere to stay where I can have time to think. We will talk later." She said almost sadly.

"Christine, don't tell me you are going back to _him_!" I said in horror, I did not care what she thought. I could not let her go back to him. This was for her own well-being.

"I might Raoul, I very well might. I am really not sure." She replied.

"But Christine, I _love_ you." I whined pathetically, but it was the only thing I could think of to say.

She turned her head and gave me a sad, pitiful smile.

"I don't know anymore Raoul. I really don't know." She sighed as she walked away.

I stood there and watched as she walked away. As she walked away she didn't look back. I was not sure what had hurt me the most.

About five minutes later she was out of sight. I bent down and picked up the ring she had thrown at me. It sat there in the palm of my hand, it looked so small and insignificant there. I sighed and put it in my pocket. I wondered what I was to do now.

I turned around and found myself face to face with the Persian. I jumped as I nearly ran into him.

"How long have you been there?" I demanded trying to catch my breath.

He looked at me sadly.

"Long enough I'm afraid long enough." He sighed.

"What do I do?" I asked helplessly. This was a new experience for me, hate, rejection and loathing.

"That, my friend I cannot tell you. You must find the answer on your own." He replied. "But for now, I suppose you should get some rest at your apartment. It should help you think more clearly."

I had to agree with him. I slowly trudged back to the inn. There were so many thoughts and emotions swirling around in me that I could no longer comprehend them all. I stepped through the door into Giovanni's room. I figured that he might have some advice I could use. He was old after all.

I stepped into the room and immediately cursed. _He was gone!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Finally an update! That's probably what you're all thinking, right? I have to admit, this chapter was quite hard to write and I'm not sure it came out exactly the way I wanted it to. I might have to come back and redo it someday. Anyway here's chapter 9-Erik's chapter!**

Chapter 9 (Erik)

I had not seen the boy sneak up behind me. I had lost myself in my music. I was trying to comprehend what he had said. Friends? I had no friends. People avoided and hated me. Even Christine had, even though I had secret hopes that she loved me. It was an impossible kind of love, one that came from fear and pity.

But actual friends with a little boy? Impossible! I had thought us acquaintances through medical research. He had a vast amount of knowledge that I found I could expand if I took the right approach. He would be very successful in the future. He had the right appearance and his mind was ever-expanding. In a few years he would know more than most adults. Then he would either despise me or forget about me because of society's standards and influence.

But now it could be certain that he would be repulsed and hate me.

I had not heard the telltale creak of the floorboards when he had come down. I had been playing a piece that reminded me of Christine. I felt the warm, loving embrace of the music as I began to play.

I had not realized that he was behind me until I felt his warm fingers on my flesh. I had turned around in terror, knowing that he not only shared a similar name with Christine but the same nature.

The masked dropped to the floor with a muted _thud_ for a moment all we could do was stare at each other in shock. Our minds not completely processing what had just happened.

Then the reality seemed to set in. The boy's face turned a very alarming colour of white but he held his ground and looked me in the eye. I have to admit, I took the time later to admire this feat. Even grown men had blanched or backed away in fear at the sight of my face. The boy did nothing of the sort, he stood there staring me in the eye.

There was a sudden sound, to this day I do not know what it was. But that snapped me into my emotions.

I pushed the boy down. He landed with a rather large _thump._

"You fool! Did you come here to gawk? To ridicule me like so many others? If you think that I will tolerate this you are sorely mistaken! If you think that pulling my mask off would change anything you were correct! It changes people's loathing of my mask to fear at my face! It teaches people to fear me! You damned boy! You are more ignorant then I thought!" I yelled at him, my anger turning to fear. Why had I come here to see the damned boy in the first place? I had not done something like that before. Maybe I was insane, but I had not yet realized it. Perhaps Christine's visit had brought me to the brink of insanity.

"N-no!" The boy exclaimed trying pick himself up off the floor. "I just wanted to show you-." I cut him off in pure rage.

"Show me what? How much the human race hates me? I already know that boy! I need no one to show me that I am not accepted by society! I am not an idiot! I can very well tell when I am not wanted!"

"We can all see why can we not?" The boy shouted back. I stiffened at his words, how dare he!

"Oh yes, I thought that you were taught better than that you insolent boy! Perhaps I was wrong about that. Perhaps I was wrong about everything!" I hissed in a dark voice. The boy now looked positively green. I expect that this was a delayed reaction of shock.

"Wha- what does that mean?" The boy stuttered. I glared down at him, silent and then I moved towards the door to take my leave.

"WAIT!" He shouted. I turned around, shocked that anyone besides Christine and the Daroga would use that tone of voice with me.

"Will you come back?" He asked, sounding hurt but angry. I was taken aback, why would this boy want me back? But then I remembered. He would bring his friends, father, hell he could bring all of Paris and show them my face. That was most likely his plan.

I stared down at him, my gaze burning into his.

"No." I said coldly. That is when I turned and walked out the door. I had no qualms about doing this. The boy would live, grow up to be successful and wealthy, never having to murder or commit a crime because of an accident at birth.

I stopped once again outside of the doorframe. I did not turn around, did not look back.

"If you tell _anyone_ about me, or even think about coming to find me, I can promise you that you will live to regret it. I can make you feel pain in a way that is almost beyond human understanding. I have no mercy for children, spoilt or otherwise. But I can promise you this, if you do not seek e out then I have no qualms with you. You will be able to keep your life, for now. _But remember this. Your life is now mine!_"

With a flourish I disappeared in a flash of smoke. As all he could see was the smoke I hid in the ally ways hiding in every shadow and anxious to get home. I knew that this had been a mistake. I should not have accepted to see the boy. Granted, he would be dead by now but that would be a fair price would it not? All those people I had killed had been for many reasons but there was always one link to them: I killed to ruin another's life like mine had been ruined. Most all of these people had not had much of a life so I had to kill many just to get revenge. That was what it was all about.

But killing a child? I had not done such a thing before but I was certain I could do it. Yes, if I were to be forced I would have no choice and I would once again have innocent blood on my hands.

Not that I had anything to worry about. I was already going to Hell and nothing could change that because there was no God or Heaven.

I was musing this as I slipped through the shadows. I reached home in a matter of minutes. I arrived at the front door of the Paris Opera House. Or what was left of it. I felt a twinge in the heart that had been shattered when I looked upon the building's ruins. The construction had already taken place and it should be fully restored in a couple of months.

I had been forced to burn the Viscount's estate when they left my lair. He had ruined my home so I had ruined his. Christine still did not know this. I felt strangely guilty for leaving her without a home to go to with that boy.

I walked into the ruins and found a trapdoor that led to my lair. I gently slipped down the gaping black hole. _Down once more to my dungeon of my black despair I suppose._ I thought bitterly, these were the words that I had spoken to Christine on that night.

I no longer needed a torch to light up the catacombs beneath the Opera house and into my lair. My eyes could see well enough in the dark I no longer needed any light.

I effortlessly guided myself to the entrance of the lake, avoiding all the fallen brick and debris. I was weaving back and forth throughout the larger pieces of wood and such that had fallen from the roof.

I frowned as I remembered something from earlier today. When I had asked the boy his symptoms I had the feeling he was not entirely telling the truth. This puzzled me, why would he not have told me the truth? I needed to know the side effects if I wanted to use the medicine in any further research.

Some of the side effects could be quite harmful and it was possible that they could kill a weak child. There were different types of Peruvian poisons in the medication that if I put 0.001 more grams than was needed it was lethal. I had long perfected the arts of killing and healing. But I had only made this specific medication once before. That had been almost two decades ago. When I had made it this time I had felt my stomach tighten in nervousness.

Not that The Opera Ghost ever got nerves. Well, not that anyone else knew anyhow. To most I was the fearless Phantom of the Opera, who no one really knew if he were ghost or man.

I slowly guided the gondola to the dock in my lair. I looked around for a moment, something did not look quite right. I was fairly certain I had extinguished those candles before I had left this morning. There were other suspicious things that did not look like they belonged in my lair.

I stood there, confused and trying to comprehend the changes in my lair. Then I heard a faint noise coming from my sitting room. It was so faint that had it not been me no other man would have picked up on it.

I briefly considered taking my dagger or my noose with me, but then realized it would most likely be pointless. All the intruders that had visited my lair in the past two weeks had lived even when I had tried my best to kill them. With the exception of Christine of course.

I practically ran to my sitting room to greet my invader. They would not receive a pleasant welcome from The Opera Ghost. The closer I got to the room the stranger the sounds became. It almost sounded like someone was sobbing! I could understand, anyone who dared venture down to my lair had a right to sob. They were about to be killed, and sometimes in a very gruesome bloody way. Many think that the art of hanging, drawing and quartering was lost but they do not know me, this also goes for many other gruesome ways of torture.

But the closer I became the more I realized that the reason they were weeping was not fear, but loneliness. I had cried enough times in my life because of loneliness that I could tell immediately when someone was lonely.

This was very puzzling. Why would someone be in my home, crying not out of fear, but loneliness?

I stopped outside. Took a deep breath and opened the door.

I walked into the well lit room and a gasp escaped from my lips. _She was sitting right there_! Christine.

She was huddled on the floor in the dress which she had left in two weeks ago. Her head was hidden from me but I saw her shoulders shaking. Occasionally I heard her shaky intake of breath. I just stood in the doorframe. Watching her when she did not know. Just like when I was her l'Ange de Musique. Even when she was upset she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

I sighed when I realized that I must make my presence known to her.

"Christine..." I said softly. I heard her gasp and turn around to face me. Her eyes were bright red from her weeping. I felt immediate rage to whoever did this to her. They had hurt her and by God they would pay for it. They would die in a way that I have not tried since the Khanum's palace.

"Erik..."She whispered back. She seemed surprised to see me. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell slack for a moment but then she regained her composure.

"Shh, mon ange. It is really surprising to see me in my own home?" I asked trying to distract her from whatever caused her pain.

He gave a weak smile.

"You have been gone for the past few hours. Where were you?" She asked quietly. I stiffened. She had been waiting for me. She had been here for a few hours. I wondered why she was here. There must have been a reason.

"I am not a total recluse child, I do go above to the surface from time to time." I said smoothly, avoiding telling her where I had gone.

Her eyes seemed to sharpen for a moment, as realizing that I had been avoiding the subject. She simply let it go.

"Erik, I need a place to think for a while. May I stay here. Since I left there have been...complications." She said. I wondered what these complications might have been

"My dear, I can refuse you nothing." I replied. I was furiously thinking. Why had she come to me? Why did she not go to the boy? Did these complications have anything to do with him?

"Your dress is torn and quite bloody Christine, perhaps you should change it." I suggest. She nodded mutely and I led her to the Louise-Philippe room.

I closed the door and let her change in peace. I stayed outside of her door. Then I heard her talking. This puzzled me. Who could she possibly be talking to? There was not a single being in that room other than her.

I shifted closer to the door to hear her conversation. She seemed to be talking to herself!

"Great Christine, you leave Raoul just to come the manic killer. Why did you come here? How will he react when he finds out what happened ?" She muttered. My eyes widened. What was she talking about? What happened? Was she in trouble? Was it that damned boy?

I wanted to walk in and demand to know what had happened, but being the gentleman I am I could not do that. I had never seen a lady without clothing on and I knew that no matter how tempting it was, to walk in on Christine and kiss her, hold her, _anything_ without her clothes on would scare her and she would run back to the boy.

So I stood at the door listening.

"But why? Why did I do that? I knew that when we married that it was expected of me to behave like that. I have known that since I was a child. But after Erik, everything was different..._everything_!" She cried in despair. My heart was throbbing, _what had the boy done to her_? That thought kept repeating over and over in my head.

She did not talk to herself for the rest of time she was changing. But I stood ever vigilant outside of her room. She stepped out of the door a few minutes later, she was wearing a simple blue dress without a corset or anything else really. The dress was a midnight blue color that brought out the blue in her eyes. She looked gorgeous.

"E-Erik." She stammered shocked for a moment and I wondered why she always seemed so surprised to see me.

"Yes my dear, now shall we have tea? I am sure that it has been a very stressful day and that you would like to relax." _And perhaps tell me what that damned boy did to hurt you so much._

"Of course, thank you very much." She agreed. I gently took her hand and let her down the hallway.

I sat her down at the table as I prepared some Russian tea using my Samovar. In the weeks that Christine had been here before she grew to like the tea, no matter how bitter it was.

I poured myself a cup, God knows I needed it. After the encounter with that boy, Christian I needed to relax. I filled our cups and sat down at the table as well.

I lifted the cup to take a sip of the hot liquid. Then, without warning I dropped the cup. It smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor, the liquid had been spilled on my chest and was now burning. But I could not feel any of it for there was one realization that I had.

_I was not wearing my mask. I had not put it back on after the boy ripped it off._

And Christine had stayed with me the whole time.

"Erik!" I heard her cry out. I felt her rip my shirt off to get the hot liquid off. But it was not the feeling of my burning flesh that caused me to cry out. No, I had burnt myself many times when trying to perfect some magic that I had learned, it was when I felt her tears fall against my chest.

Started, I looked up at her lovely face. She was crying. I wondered why. What possible reason would she have for crying? Perhaps she had suddenly realized what a monster I was without the mask. Perhaps she wanted to get revenge for the pain I had inflicted on her before.

I knew I had to find out what was wrong. If I did not I would hate myself for it later.

"Christine, what is the matter? Have I hurt or offended you?" I asked worriedly. She shook her head.

"How can you not flinch when you physically get hurt? But when someone hurts you emotionally..." She trailed off but I caught the meaning behind the words. I had to tell her the truth, I was powerless to do otherwise.

"I have been hurt physically many times Christine, by my mother, by the Khanum and often by my own hand. But to be hurt in such a way that it tears your mind apart, it is a truly terrifying thing. People have often tried to break my mind through my emotions. But they could find no weak point in my facade. To them I was emotionless. There was only one way to get me to react to anything and that was by music. No one dared touch my mask after the first man. And no one ever found out about my music. So I was never really hurt. But then you came. I began to _feel_ things again. I was terrified at first. I was not used to these emotions that swelled within my heart. I knew that if you ever hated me, be it my mask or my undying love that I would die. I had never felt such a way before and my emotions and my mind where constantly at war with each other. Then, when you ripped my mask off for the first time I felt as if my soul had been taken with it. I knew you would hate me and I have to say I went quite insane because of it. The boy did not help matters. I know that what I have done can never be forgiven Christine, that is quite impossible. But the one excuse that I have is that I have never felt anything so excruciatingly painful as when you ran from me. All I ask is understanding Christine. Then you may go back to the boy." I said, pain radiating from my voice and movements.

Her eyes widened and tears entered them. But to her credit they did not fall.

"Erik, you said I may stay here as long as I like, does that no longer apply?" She asked worriedly. I frowned, why would she still want to stay here? Why did she not want to return to her precious fiancée?

"Of course it does my dear, it's just that I thought that you would no longer prefer to spend time in my presence. I also apologize." I said smoothly. This time it was her brow that furrowed.

"Apologize but...why? That story meant the world to me. I feel as if I do understand now Erik."She said confused.

"No my dear, you have misunderstood. I apologize for making you look at _this_" I pointed to my face. " I had not realized that I was not wearing it. Today had been a very stressful and unpleasant day so far." I said bitterly. I had almost forgotten about the boy because Christine was here.

"Erik, you do not need to apologize. Have I said anything? Have I done anything to show you that I despise you and your face? No, I have not. Not of late anyhow. That is because I realized that none of this was your fault. It is no one's fault. I am also sorry that your day has not been a pleasant one, to tell the truth mine had not exactly been the happiest day of my life." She replied.

This reminded me of the rage that I had felt before. Someone had undoubtedly hurt her today. But that rage was tinged with ecstasy. She did not blame me for my face! It was true, she had not done anything lately that had suggested that she hated me. But people could become experts at hiding their emotions.

"Tell me what happened." I demanded. She looked quite depressed for a moment but then eyes the burns on my chest.

"But Erik you are hurt!" She said.

"It does not matter that Erik is hurt mon ange. He does not even feel it." I promised. She looked at me again, puzzled this time.

"Are you sure?" She asked disbelievingly.

"Quite." I assured her.

"It's quite a long story." She replied nervously.

"I do believe I can clear time from my insanely busy schedule to listen" I said calmly trying to make her smile. It worked, she let out a chuckle. I smiled, she was chuckling because of me!

"Thank you Erik." She said quietly. Now I was truly curious. Why was she putting off this conversation?

"Think nothing of it. But please, tell me what happened." I implored.

She looked into my eyes and said:

"Erik...Raoul and I are no longer engaged."

**Oh, another cliffie! I know what you're all expecting- you probably think that Christine will tell Erik she loves him, he'll accept her feelings and they'll live happily ever after. I can assure you-that will not be the case. I'm not going to ever do it like that, I to tell you- the next chapter will be Erik's as well! I think I'm growing overly fond of writing as him, but I can't help it! And for those of you who read my other story- I apologize, it must seem as though I've been wiped off the face of the earth, but I promise that it will be my next update!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for such a long wait once again. I just got back from Vegas, I was there for 8 days. Yes, I did go see Phantom of course. Actually I went to go see it 3 times. Students get tickets for 33 dollars by the way. On my third time I got the VIP tour! Ironically each time I went there was a different Phantom. First it was Anthony Crivello, the normal Vegas Phantom, second was Ian Jon Bourg and third was Ted Keegan. I met Ted by the way and he is amazing! He's funny too. If you ever have a chance to see him, take it. He's played on Broadway and on the national tour and he really is an amazing Erik. Anyway, if you want to know more about the Vegas production PM me. I'll explain what you want to know. So without further ado, chapter 10 of the Opera's Ghost.**

**POTO (c) Gaston Leroux and Erik design (c) ALW  
**

Chapter 10 (Erik)

My mind screamed out at her words. They could not be true...could they? She had abandoned the boy? I knew I could not react like I wanted to. That would involve screaming and hurting her. That would not do. She would be _mine_ if all this was the truth.

"You had better tell me what happened my dear." I said under the false pretense of calmness. She looked shocked that I hadn't overreacted. I almost laughed at her expression.

"Alright...it's not very exciting." She said warily. I did laugh this time, anything to do with my love and it had to be exciting!

"I'm sure that I can handle it."I assured her chuckling softly.

"Well, I have spent the last two weeks in the Persian's flat. Oh- he told me his real name by the way. Nadir. I had to spend the time healing... I hurt my head. Then today he took me out for a celebratory dinner right before I was about to go back to Raoul. Then before our food came Raoul walked in. Then we fought. We both said things and it ended with me throwing his ring back at him and breaking off our engagement. I then came here." She said matter-of-factly. I had a feeling there was more to my story than she was telling but I didn't want to press her in case she got angry at me...just like mother.

I flinched at that thought and Christine saw me.

"Erik, what is wrong? You flinched." She asked concerned. I was touched by her compassion.

"Nothing my dear...your untainted ears do not need to hear such horror." I replied calmly. She looked down. She could only guess at what I was referring to and what I said I absolutely meant. I did not need to bestow such horror upon her ears.

"Erik, what am I to do now? I cannot go back up there! People would wonder why I had broken my engagement with Raoul and then they would look into my past and then they might come after you!" She gasped. I smiled at her babbling. It was very endearing. I put my fingers to her lips.

"Have no fear mon amour. If I do not wish to be found I shall not be found." I said with certainty. This was true. I certainly could live up to my name. I truly could be counted as a spectre.

I saw a slight smile grace her mouth and I felt my pulse quicken. When she smiled I remembered exactly why I had grown to love her. Then I remembered the other reason why I had initially fallen in love with her.

"You have been neglecting your voice. Come, we shall practice." I said as I led her to the room that held my piano and organ. But before that I stopped and replaced my mask. She did not say anything as I did this but her eyes, well her eyes did not hold relief when I replaced the mask. If I did not know better I would have said that she looked disappointed! I knew this was utter nonsense. People did not feel disappointed when I replaced my mask. If they were allowed to live as long as for me to replace it they either expressed relief or gratitude for the fact that I had replaced my mask. There had been no exceptions.

I led her into the room and sat down at my piano. I forced myself to concentrate. To not think about Christine although she was right there. _Right there_!

After a few moments of just her standing there, not even singing I put my head in my hands and groaned. She looked at me, confused.

"Is there something wrong Erik?" She asked, she seemed worried. I gave her a small smile.

Of course not my dear. Can you take a few steps back? You will need room to breathe without being right over my shoulder." I said smoothly. She consented and took a step back. A felt a breath of air I had not known that I had been holding escape my lungs.

"Now then, we will warm up and then play from Faust." I said and she nodded. I began to play the scales. Then we practiced some cadenzas and crescendos and decrescendos. She had been having trouble with these in our last music lesson and I was pleased to find she had improved.

We then moved onto Faust. I sang in the duets as Mephistopheles and Faust. I thought ironically that it was fitting. Our voices mingled and battled. For a precious hour I was able to forget everything that had transpired in the last three weeks, Don Juan, the chandelier and most importantly her betrayal. It all vanished for that one hour.

Then, as all things do it came to an end. I often wonder why good things come and vanish but the horrible things, the things you want to forget always linger and eat away at you. So far I have not found an answer to this question.

I would have happily continued our lesson all day but I feared that her voice would be strained. So I reluctantly stopped playing and told her it would be best to stop. I saw her face fall and hastily assured her that we would continue our lessons the next day.

Then I heard her stomach growl. She blushed in embarrassment. I felt like quite thick. Of course she would need food! How could I forgotten that? She would starve down here! I silently berated myself.

"Come, you are hungry. I will make something for you to eat." I said as I took her hand. She tried to protest but I silenced her. I then guided her to the kitchen and sat her down. I carefully prepared something edible for her. I cannot taste very much, my deformity has rendered my sense of smell useless and my taste buds no longer have any use unless the food has a very strong flavour. For this reason I do not eat much and seem to have become incredibly thin.

After she ate I realized it was very late and sent her to prepare for bed. I told her to go straight to sleep. She did not need to strain her voice anymore. I sat down with my violin and started playing it, trying to lull Christine into a pleasant sleep.

I stopped playing and thought about all that had happened that day. So much! An unmasking, a broken engagement, _Christine_... It was all so hard to accept! She had broken off the engagement with the boy! _But why had she come back to me? She could have staying with the Giry's..._ That thought was nagging at the back of my mind. Why had she come back to her l'ange de musique?

_ Elles est mon amour. Elle ne m'aime pas. Elle est ma vie. Elle a capture mon cœur._

I could not help thinking these things , God damn it! Why were my thoughts always consumed my her? I could hardly remember the time when it was music that was my life. Compared to know my life was calm and peaceful, most of the time. But for some reason I cannot find it in myself to feel regret for all that has happened.

I had no idea how late it really was when I heard Christine scream. I felt my heart beat at double it's normal rate and rushed toward her room as I heard her sob. My first thought was that someone was hurting her. And I wondered how someone could get in my lair without me noticing.

I ran into the room and was relieved to see Christine unharmed sobbing into a pillow. I approached her cautiously. I was not experienced in comforting people, I doubt that I ever will be.

"Christine? Christine, what happened? What is the matter?" I asked touching her should hesitantly. She looked up at me with tear filled eyes.

"He's gone Erik, he's not coming back! I never even got to say good-bye!" She sobbed. For a brief, horrible moment I thought she meant the boy and I felt a fiery rage consume me. But then I quickly realized that she was referring to her father.

"It will be okay mon amour, it always is." I said trying to think of what to say. I really was horrible at this.

Her sobs quieted after a few moments and I saw her chest rise and fall and realized that she was asleep once again. I got up to leave, she would not want to wake up with me staring down at her, that would ensure that she would leave and never come back.

As soon as I stood up she grabbed at me blindly.

"Don't leave me." She whimpered. I felt the ice around my heart melt. How could this one girl do what no one else has ever achieved?

"I wouldn't think of it." I assured her. She didn't let go of my shirt but fell asleep again quickly. I soon realized she was not going to let go anytime soon so I slipped the shirt off and quickly rushed out of the room, put a new one on and return to Christine's room.

I saw that she had was hugging my shirt to her chest and was inhaling it's scent in her sleep. My heart soared at this sight and I only wished that I was a replacement for my shirt.

_No, she will never accept you, she will never hold you. You are a monster that does not deserve her. _A little voice nagged at the back of my mind. I knew it was right, when was it not? But I could not help but dream.

I wondered what I felt for her, I knew it had to be more than love. Emotions this strong could not be explained as mere love. I tried to think of a word but could not. Then it dawned on me.

_Je n'ai pas de mots. _I have no words.

There were no words to describe our relationship. There were so many things that I could call it. Love, obsession, and so on but really, there were no words for it. How could there ever be words to describe Christine? There could be none.

She stirred in bed and I heard her mutter

"Do not leave me angel. Please, I love you!" I froze at this statement. She did not love me, she loved her angel of music, who in turn was me no longer I had given up that title the first time I had taken her down to my lair.

I had not realized that she had woken up a few minutes after this. She sat up in her bed and looked at me with bleary eyes. I could tell she was still half asleep.

"You know, I never believed there was an opera ghost."She said dreamily. I stared at her in shock, where had _that _come from?

"Why not?" I demanded. This was quite curious, I had managed to convince everyone that I was a ghost.

"Because, ghost's don't need salaries." She said before drifting back off into a gentle sleep, still clutching my shirt. I stared at her in shock. How had she realized this? She was absolutely right of course, ghosts really don't need salaries. Men do, well I could claim to be a man in needing earthly needs. I had forgotten about that, that goes to show how special Christine was, none of those other idiots realized this fact.

I stood over her and guarded her all through the night, I made sure she was not haunted by nightmares. She slept peacefully the rest of the night, to my relief. I did not think I could console her if she had another nightmare.

She woke up to the smell of my cooking that morning and I saw her slowly and unsteadily walk into the kitchen.

She looked gorgeous in her silken nightgown. It was a pale green and it shimmered around her. I felt my intake of breath.

_How could the boy give this up? _I wondered to myself. He must be a fool, she was perfect and he let her slip from his grasp!

I could feel some carnal instinct arise in me. I fought hard to push it back, Christine did not deserve it, my fantasies could never come true. I could never have Christine, she belonged to the world of light. She was not meant to wander in the shadows.

"Come my dear, I predict that you are hungry. You will eat." I said calmly, masking my feelings. She looked surprised but obliged to my wishes. She sat down at the table and I set the plate full of food in front of her. She gladly tucked into it and I watched in fascination. How could such a small woman eat that much food? She must have noticed me staring at her.

She blushed but then asked

"When was the last time you ate Erik?" I looked at her with frank surprise. Why did she want to know? Did this mean she cared about me? No, that was impossible.

"I do not exactly remember." I said a bit ashamed. I truly didn't, I rarely take time to do such meaningless things. Besides my body has learned to go days without food.

She looked at me and said

"Then you will eat with me." I started to panic. I could not eat with her! She would run in fear and never return!

"I do not think that is a good idea." I said awkwardly. She levelled her gaze with mine and said

"It was not a question." I felt a shiver go up my spine. She was being assertive and I had no idea what to think of this.

"You hold no power over me. You cannot tell me what to do." I replied. She suddenly looked frustrated.

"Why won't you eat with me?" She asked. I froze and debated whether I should tell her the truth or not. I decided that you cannot base any kind of relationship-even if it was only friendship- on lies.

"Because I would have to take my mask off to eat." I said simply. She frowned. But accepted this explanation. But then she stood up and pushed food in front of me. I could not eat this! I was telling the truth when I told her that I would have to take my mask off but there was another reason why I could not eat with her. The food she had could not satisfy me. It was too bland and I would not be able to taste it. My...condition has made it so that I could neither smell nor taste unless it was very strong. This is something that proved how much of a monster I am.

But for Christine I would do anything and quickly ate the food. I would tell her this fact another time. Then I looked up at her expression. It was one of burning curiosity. I knew that I had to ask what was wrong lest she got hurt.

"Christine, what do you want to know?" I asked hoping that whatever she asked would not affect her staying down here.

She looked at me in surprise but did not comment on it. "I was wondering what happened to you after Raoul and I left. What happened to the mob?" She wondered. I felt panic clutch my heart. She could not hear that! That was too gruesome for her ears! I was not ashamed about what I had done but I would not allow anyone to hear about that.

"No." I replied making my stance on this subject quite clear. She would not hear of this, even if it meant cutting my own tongue out to ensure that she remained innocent. I would do that for her. But alas, I could deny her nothing if she insisted upon it.

"Tell me!" She insisted with a stubborn tone. I sighed and hoped that she would at least say farewell before she ran from me.

"Very well my dear. But I have to warn you, it is not a pleasant tale." I said. She gave me a look that clearly said _Just get on with it!_

"After you and the boy left I slipped into my chair that has a false back, I waited until everything was in place and slaughtered them all. Well, Little Giry escaped because her mother realized that she was down here and quickly came and retrieved her. After they had left the others died. The lucky ones stumbled into my torture chamber and chose to take their own lives by hanging themselves. The unlucky ones stumbled upon the traps which I have placed in my home. The ones who have done wrong by me I killed in a very painful manner. Like Carlotta, she has made you cry and therefore died in a very painful manner, do not deny it! I saw you in your dressing room after those rehearsals Christine. I took very much pleasure in killing her. The other ones died very painlessly, or so I assume. They did not cry out so I can assume that I was successful in bringing them no pain. The only wrong they had done was wandering into the lair of the Opera Ghost. It was truly regrettable that they had to be killed. After that I had to take care of the bodies. This was hardly a problem. I dropped them off a cliff into a river and hoped that someone would find them soon. Except for Carlotta. I left her in the manager's office. Weren't they surprised to see her their? Their screams still haunt the walls I believe. I found it quite amusing though I do not believe the police did." I explained and grinned as I thought of the screams the managers had uttered when they saw the body of their precious diva. They sounded like the soprano herself!

When I dared look at her I saw Christine's eyes wide and her face pale. I wondered why she had not run by now. Surely I had given her enough time? She stared at me and I stared back, hypnotized by the depth in those blue eyes. Her blue eyes and blond hair certainly marked her linage, pure Swedish, that was clear. Just as she opened her mouth to talk I heard something from the door of my house. It sounded like the boy yelling Christine's name!

**Oo, another cliffie, we shall see what happens next! I'm not sure but I might do it in Erik's POV again. I think I've fallen in love with writing his character!**

**Oh-translations for the french**

**  
Elle est mon amour- She is my love**

**Elle m'aime pas- She does not love me.**

**Elle est ma vie- She is my life**

**Elle est capture mon coeur- She has captured me heart.**

**Aww, Erik talks about love! Sorry, I couldn't resist! This french by the way, is a product of nine years of French classes. If you see any errors please point them out!**

**Au revoir mon ami, don't forget to review! They mean the world to me!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Let's get a hand shall we folks? I have updated again! Besides the continuing writers block on my part I have been mulling over what courses I should do next year. What do you think? French or Advanced Home Economics? I'm not quite sure yet. It's hard to choose. Anyway, I'm not sure how long it has been since Christine's last singing lesson so I made a rough estimate. This is why I don't agree with Mr Forsyth. Christine would have been showing in Masquerade at least if she was pregnant. *spoilers ahead* Of course, it's not like Erik would rape Christine in the first place! He just wouldn't! *spoilers end* This chapter is dedicated to Reagan as always, without her I would be nowhere. This story would be updated maybe...once a year? Anyway, give her a round of applause ladies and gentlemen.  
**

**Anyway, I don't own anything sadly...  
**

Chapter 11 (Erik)

Damn that boy! How could he have gotten down here? After the incident with that man I had reinstalled all my old traps and designed new ones. I did not want a repeat of that experience.

Christine was still pale and looked like she was about to talk. I then realized that she had not heard the boy yet! With my acute hearing I had heard him before she had! Oh-this was the perfect opportunity!

I grabbed her wrist and lead her down the hall. I was quite shocked when she did not try to resist. I looked at her and hated what I saw in her eyes. It was utter defeat. Like she was resigned to whatever fate I had in store for her. Should I choose to take her prisoner-or God forbid hurt her, I think she would have expected it and not complain.

This tore at my heart. I could never hurt her. If she so chose to leave I would have let her, I would never imprison her-not again, not after last time.

Still, I would not let her go with that boy. He had hurt her once before and if he did so again I believe it would be the death of her. This was for her and only her. It was not my fault it benefited me as well.

I closed her room door when I guided her into it. I stood looking at the door for a moment.

Should I lock the door to keep her from coming out? Or should I leave it unlocked and allow the possibility of her coming out and seeing the boy?

The choice was killing me. I was so unsure. I knew that if I locked the door I had a chance of losing her forever. But if she came out the boy might convince her to leave with him and make her forgive him. Then she would never come back. _It was confusing and quite frightening! _

I must have stood at the door for a good two minutes before I made my decision. I quickly stepped away from the door before I could change my decision.

I knew that I would rather have Christine leave me because of the boy than because of me.

I blended into the shadows and stalked the boy in my own home. He kept glancing over his shoulder to see if I would approach him from behind. Did he not know? If I wanted to kill him he would be dead. Besides, I saw no reason to harm him. He had not taken Christine away, and thus far he had not wronged me besides wandering into my house.

But as he ventured further into my house I could not help but will him to wander into the torture chamber. Surely Christine could forgive one more death if it was not directly my fault? The boy would wander there on his own! That would be suicide. I would not be at fault for his foolishness.

I grinned in anticipation as the boy stood at the door to my torture chamber. I silently willed him to enter. He must have stood there for a good minute before shuddering and walking away. I cursed under my breath. I should have known that would happen. The room leaked murderous intent. So many had died in that room. Any good, sane person should have sensed it. But I still could not help but feel disappointed.

I then realized with a start that he was getting closer to Christine's room! If he got too near she might hear him and come out to see what was happening! No, I would not tolerate that.

I stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the boy. I then shoved him into the nearest room which happened to be my study. When I shoved him he fell and I towered over him. This was my preferred method of intimidating someone. When you were smaller than a person it made you feel quite frightened when they wanted to hurt you. I was very large in size and often used this to my advantage.

But the foolish boy sat there glaring up at me. _Me! _He was obviously not about his wits. No wonder Christine had left him! He was mad!

I very briefly contemplated taking off my mask to make him fear me. This would surely do the trick. After all, it was a monster under the mask. When I had it on I could be a perfect gentleman because no one knew about the hidden monster. I quickly discarded this thought. What if Christine wandered out of her room when I took it off? I would not subject her to that torture, not again. She was in innocent beauty who I had twisted to fit my own personality. It was sick and cruel, what I was doing to that girl. But now we had both tread the path of no return. We were irrevocably devoted to another now.

Getting back to the boy, he stood there glaring at me as I towered over him. My shadow was cloaking him in darkness. It did not look natural. This man did not belong under the cover of night, avoiding people who would laugh and ridicule him. He was meant for the day. And I hated him for it. He could give Christine all that she asked for in the light, I could not.

"What do you want from me?" The boy's voice broke my thoughts. I gave a small, menacing laugh. How dare he ask me that?

"What would you like monsieur? Need I remind you that you have wandered into Erik's house? Did you know that he does not take lightly to intruders? You are lucky to still have your life. Though that could change if you would like..."

The boy paled and looked down, breaking our gaze.

"I have just come to fetch my fiancée." He whispered. I felt my throat constrict and my heart harden at the words he uttered.

"What fiancée monsieur? I believe that you are no longer engaged!" I shot back with contempt.

"Give her back!" Was his only defence. I smirked, he thought that he could take her away from me? He was sorely mistaken!

"I'm sorry monsieur, I do not have her." What was one more lie when Christine was concerned? It certainly not the worst sin I had committed.

"Yes you do! How could you have known that she broke off our engagement if she was not down here?" He snarled, obviously trying to sound menacing but ended up sounding like a little dog.

"Well, monsieur. Besides the obvious fact that you are wearing her ring on a chain on your neck, there are many other details which I will choose not to answer." I replied. His hand automatically went to his neck and felt the chain that held Christine's former ring.

He looked at me once again.

"Well, if she's not with you who would she be with?" He asked, half desperate, half accusing. Had it not been him I would have felt pity for the man. But since it was this spoiled boy who thought he could take Christine away I felt no mercy, pity or any other emotion for him except hatred.

"Why should I know? I am not her jailer nor her lover. I do believe you know that quite well." I retorted.

"But you are her stalker. So why should I think that you do not know where she is?"

I hissed in fury. How dare this boy accuse me of stalking Christine? I had never stalk her! _Never! _ I loved her, but I did not love her so much that I would watch her change, or any inappropriate things like that! I only watched her as she slept. She was so beautiful and innocent when she slept. All the pain, loneliness and fear disappeared when she slept.

"I do not stalk people sir. But, if you would like I could hunt you down and make sure you die a very painful death. Would you like that? No? Then I suggest you get out of my house before I am forced to remove you. And that may, or may not entail you being alive at the time." I threatened. He turned even paler and stood up. He did not turn his back to me, I suppose in fear that I would go against my warning and kill him anyhow.

I walked just behind him to make sure he exited my house properly. I made sure that he was all the way out of the opera house, and a good distance away before I returned to Christine.

She had not moved from the room. She sat on her bed, staring blankly at the walls. When I entered her gaze shifted to me and I saw emotions that I did not want to see in those eyes. Anyone else I would have enjoyed it, but with her it made my heart ache. She was afraid of something, most likely me.

"That was Raoul, wasn't it Erik?" She asked, looking at me, life returning to those blue eyes that I adored.

"Yes, it was. He wanted you to go back with him." I admitted feeling frightened. What if she wanted to go back to him? Why did I tell her that he had come?

Her eyes were overcome by fury.

"Doesn't he know when to give up? I left him. He was being an inconsiderate jerk! He would not even let me sing!" She shouted. I was stunned. He would not let her sing? Why on earth would he not let her do that? It was her God given talent! How could he deny her the thing she desired most in the world? Oh yes-I would kill him for that.

"He would not let you sing? Why?" I questioned.

"He said that I belonged to him! I knew that women were expected to please their husbands when they were married, but I cannot stand the thought of Raoul touching me like that!" She cried. I was confused. Did she not remember my confession just an hour earlier? She seemed frightened then! But I would not remind her of that.

The thing that made my blood boil was the fact that the boy claimed her as his. She was not, she was mine! In all ways except body. I claimed her mind, I claimed her soul as well as her voice.

I hesitantly ran my hands through her hair, trying to calm her down. I savoured the sensation of those silky strands running through my fingers.

"It's okay my Angel. He will not harm you. I will make sure of that." I whispered. She looked up at me with those trusting eyes that made my heart melt.

"I do believe it is time for your music lesson my dear." I said standing up abruptly trying to organize my thoughts into an appropriate manner.

She stood up as well, I took her hand and led her into the music room. I sat down at the piano and began to play the scales. She looked surprised from the sudden start but caught up quickly.

We spent two hours with the lessons, It helped us both forget our troubles. I could tell by the tone in Christine's voice that she was happy. I believe that she was remembering the time before the boy came back into her life. When I was known only was the Angel of Music.

When I knew that if we continued any longer her voice would be strained, thus causing her to lose it I stopped playing and she looked at me in confusion.

"My dear, it has been two hours. I do believe that we should stop before you strain your voice." I said.

She looked at me with shocked eyes, like she could not believe it had been that long. I became nervous as we stood in silence for a few minutes. Then I knew I had speak.

"What would you like to do mon ange?" I asked. She contemplated this for several minutes. The she spoke decisively.

"Erik...will you sing for me?" She asked. I was shocked. She had not asked me to sing for a very long time. It had been almost 6 months. (**A/N Just going on a rough estimate there. I'm going from the last time they had their lessons.)**

"Of course love, anything you wish." I replied. She looked eager to hear my voice and settled on a chair I had placed in the room for her.

I remembered a requiem I had composed when I was around seven and began to sing. It was fairly long and it took me a while to finish. When I looked up I was surprised to see Christine asleep in the chair. I smiled. She had been through so much in the past three weeks that she needed a good night of sleep. Without worry, without fear.

I walked over and picked her up to carry her back to the bedroom. She stirred in my arms and huddled closer to my warmth. I walked down to her room, then set her on the bed. I looked down and thought about her for a moment.

After staring at her for a moment I leaned down and set a light kiss on her forehead. She stirred and I froze. I should not have done that! She would run now, if she realized what had just happened. But she did not wake up. She just smiled and switched sides.

It was still early when Christine fell asleep so I decided to do something productive. I went to see what M. Le Vicomte was doing.

I had no doubt that he would come back to Christine. He loved her just as much as I did. And if I were him and she picked me I would do anything to get her back.

I locked all the doors that led into dangerous parts of the house. I did not want Christine injured because of my foolish mistake.

I did not know where the boy would be. I heard Christine mention something about an inn. There were many inns in Paris and I did not know where to start.

I thought about it for a moment. Would it not make sense for them to stay by the closest family that they both had? That would mean Philippe de Chagny. I had no grudge against the man personally. But if he was a part of that family then he was no doubt a complete idiot. Allowing that boy to court Christine! Ridiculous! Noble families do not marry those of humble origins. He should have stopped the ridiculous relationship from the start!

There were very few inns around the de Chagny manner. And of course the Vicomte would only take the best. So that only left one. It's name was _Le inn de nuit_. I found that quite ironic, He dared wander not only in my home but in an inn that held my domain's name. The inn of the night, quite ironic is it not?

It was quite easy to see what room was the boy's. It took a few rooms to get the right one but once I did I had found him, along with the chief of police. I slipped in through the shadows and listened to the conversation. It started with the chief asking questions.

"You say that he was in the room before you went out. This is correct?"

"Oui"

"How do you know he did not simply go out for a walk?"

"It was very hard for him to walk, he did not do it unless necessary."

"I see, when did you meet this man?"

"I met him two weeks ago."

"Do you know his last name, or if he had any surviving relatives?"

"He had three daughters but I do not know the surname."

"That does complicate things does it not?"

"oui."

"Do you have any suspects?"

"Yes, his name is Erik."

_Now this is getting interesting..._

"Does this man have a surname?"

"No."

"Where does he live?"

"Underneath the Academy de Musique."

"Underneath the Paris Opera House? I'm sorry monsieur but I find that quite doubtful."

"It's true, you might know him under a different name. He was called The Opera Ghost."

"Yes...I do believe I've heard of him. When was the last time you saw a doctor monsieur?"

"About four months ago perhaps...why?"

"I suggest you go see that one again. In psychiatrics perhaps?"

"Why would you suggest that? I have no need for that monsieur. I am quite in my right mind."

"Of course M. Le Vicomte. But you must admit, this is an unbelievable story."

"Yes, I know."

"Well then, I must be going. If there is any news I shall alert you immediately."

"Yes, thank you."

"Au revoir monsieur. Bien jour.

"Bien jour."

The man left and I stepped out of the shadows. M le Vicomte gasped as he saw me.

"Y-you." He stammered. I grinned at him. He tuned pale. It was amusing to now that I had that sort of effect on him.

"Hello, monsieur. I do believe it is time we had a chat..."

**French translations-**

**Bien-good**

**jour-day**

**oui, yes**

**Au revoir-good bye**

**nuit-night**

**There's my horrible french once again, maybe I should stay in it and learn the conjugations...  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Ah! A new chapter! You all have Susan to thank for this one! She kept asking about it and asking about it until I was compelled to get it done. Not exactly my favourite chapter-but it has a ton of Erik in it! Just a ton of talking too-but we learn a lot about Erik and Raoul comes to a certain realization (about time too!)**

**POTO (c) Gaston Leroux and basis of this story to ALW**

Chapter 12 (Raoul)

As soon as I heard his voice I felt my head spin and my heart speed up. That monster was here-here!

And he was after me.

What more could he want from me? He had Christine, my life, my heart, my soul! What else could he take? It was a question that was almost impossible to answer.

"Bonjour Erik. Is there a reason for your most pleasant company?" I asked sarcastically-though I was secretly scared out of my wits as I had been down in his lair.

" Indeed there is monsieur-and it's pertaining to a charming young Swedish woman." Was the even reply.

I felt my body grow cold. After mentioning Christine there would be no more games.

"Where is she?" I demanded. I really needed to see her, to apologize so that I could take her back. I did not realize that my comments had offended her. If I had I would have never started that argument in the first place.

"That, good sir, is of unimportance to you. I can assure you that she is quite safe at the moment, no one will harm her, not again." His eyes blazed into my very soul. I could tell he meant every word he spoke.

"Look sir, whether she is or is not my fiancée at the moment does not matter to me. I need to apologize to her! To let her know how sorry I am! I need to make sure that she is alright!" I cried out. The demon looked down at me with his flaming eyes.

"And why, on earth would I give you that chance monsieur? I can assure you that Erik will make sure that you never see Christine again. It's Erik that loves her, and adores her, and will never, never leave her!" He shouted, clearly agitated.

_Wait, did he just refer to himself as Erik? _Was the only thought that crossed through my mind, as irrational as it was.

"I had her first! I was there when she was a little child! I have a stronger connection to her than you could ever have!" I shot back.

"What possible connection could be stronger than being an angel to her? I believe that she believed I was the Angel of Music her father sent for her. That was a very, very strong connection if I remember correctly." He said smugly. I glared at him.

"But you're not an angel, you lied to her. Deceived her. Do you really think that she'll ever forgive you for that? I don't think so. The Angel of Music was a sacred thing for her, something she shared only with her father. How do you think she feels about that? I don't think that I would be as merciful to you if I were her. I would have reported you already." I replied, the games at an end.

"I suggest that you refrain from irritating me Monsieur de Chagny. I have let you live once today. You should be thanking me. I do not think that it would be intelligent of you to irritate me further." He said, his voice filled with a threat that I knew was not empty.

"Should I be inclined to thank you? You have ruined my life, and taken my love. How could I ever forgive you? You have almost killed me multiple times, as well as threatening my family."

He didn't say a word after that, the silence was crushing. Tension hang so think in the air that I could feel it closing in on me when I gasped for breath.

"You are lucky to get off with that much monsieur. If it had not been for Christine I would have killed you long ago. I am tamer now then I was when I was younger." He said

Him, tame? And how much younger was he talking about? He looked as if he were in his thirties, but he spoke of himself as if he were an elder. I briefly wondered what all he had been through to have aged so quickly in mind.

"What did you come here for Erik?" I asked suddenly weary. If he wanted to kill me why didn't he just get it over and done with? Not that I wanted to die, I would certainly put a fight. But why keep me in suspense? Was this another torture technique that he used? It certainly was not that far-fetched.

"What did Erik come here for...?" He seemed to ask himself. He thought for a moment.

"I came to warn you, Christine belongs to me, she always has. No matter what you do, what you try I will always love her. Even if she hates me. There is nothing that you can do to harm that." He said. I was shocked. He actually admitted in plain words that he loved her! He gave me a glimpse of their relationship. Just a skim below the surface. But I felt that went deep then I could even comprehend.

And it pained me to know this.

Christine's relationship with me was a very shallow one, built on an old childhood friendship. There is no depth to our relationship. It's all so clear, like a shallow pool. Or, it was until she broke it off. Now, we had no relationship to speak of.

"Very well Erik, if that is what you prefer to think than you may. But remember, I was there first. I knew her when her father was alive. What do you think Charles would have wanted for his precious daughter. Would he have him go with me, the one he knew who could provide proper care for his daughter and the one he had met and loved like his own son. Or you, the man who is a complete stranger that is disfigured and lied to his daughter. Not to mention that you live in the bottom of an opera house." I asked, knowing that that was the best defence I could have pulled out. Christine worshipped her father and would do whatever he thought would be best.

"Charles would have chosen me." Was the confident answer that was uttered from those deformed lips.

I could hardly believe my ears.

"What?" I managed to say. "Why would he choose you? Give me one reason why he would!" I was shocked, why on earth would he think that Charles would choose him?

"Because my soul belongs to music." Was his simple reply.

He was right of course. Charles would love anyone who was as passionate about music as Erik. He would gladly give Christine to him for that.

"And what do you truly know about music?" He continued. "You are a lowly patron and viscount. I run the opera house. Whatever Christine needs I will provide her with. All her wants and desires shall be filled. Just as long as she does not run from Erik, Erik will do anything for her. And if...if she finds it in herself that she can love Erik. Erik will be the happiest man in the world. He would give his life for just one moment of her love." He seemed to drift off into his own mind for a moment. It gave me a moment to think of what he was saying.

Had I ever loved someone that much? No, I don't think it was possible for anyone but him to love that much. He, who had all the emotion in the world, yet none at all. He was full of contradictions. He was the mystery of the opera house, of the world. I don't even think that he himself could solve the mysteries he held, in his heart and in his soul.

And it pained me to realize that he loved Christine more than I ever could. I could give all the possessions in the world, as well as my love and it would never equal up to his.

Why couldn't I accept that and let him and Christine be? Because I did love her with everything I could give. It may not be as strong as his love-nothing could be as strong as that- but I did love her as much as I was capable.

And it was more than I could offer anyone else. Why should I let this man take away my chances of having true love?

Then I remembered something. It had intrigued me in the first few days after we had left the bottom of the opera house.

"Erik, why did you not escape from the lair before Christine came back to give you the ring? You had ample time to do so, yet you chose to stay and listen to your music box." I asked, intrigued.

He looked at me in frank surprise.

"How did you know about that?" He hissed.

"I was watching her from the gate, I had to make sure she had enough time to get away before the mob came. Whatever happened to them anyway?" I asked, curious.

He glared at me.

"It is no concern of yours, unless you would like to share their fate." He replied almost eagerly. I paled at the thought. I could only imagine what he had done to them. This led me to wonder if Christine knew that she was in the company of a monster.

"What is the answer to my first question?" I demanded.

"Why should I tell you anything?" He snapped. I just looked at him, I needed to know what happened and I needed to know the truth.

"I want to tell Christine when I talk to her next. I'm sure she's dying to know but is too shy to ask you herself." I used this as bait, knowing that I could get him to admit it with Christine as the object.

He sighed.

"I...was ready to die. I had lost all hope, all will to live. Christine had gone with you, and my life and home had been ruined. I had hoped the mob would finish me off. I did not feel the need to kill myself when I had people coming down to do it for me. But then...then she came back. She gave me back the ring, but she also gave me back hope. If she could come back after that, and still have the will to face me, why couldn't she come back later? Choose me instead of you? I was a dog willing to lay at her feet if she offered me what I wanted. So, after she left with you again...I took care of the mob per say." He said with reluctance. I shivered. I had not heard from anyone that was in the mob since I had returned. They had disappeared. Well...almost all of them. I had heard what had happened to La Carlotta. That was not a pleasant sight I suppose.

"You monster! How could you? Those were innocent people! What had they ever done to you?" I shouted. He sneered at me.

"What had they ever done to me? They had invaded my home, ridiculed me and they would have harmed me. They had also been trespassing. That was my property, if they had stopped to think about it, I would have killed them, as a man, for going into my home. But all they could see was the monster that had stolen one of their own and paid no heed to their instincts. If one acts like an idiot they should be punished as one too." He reasoned. All I could do was stand there and stare at him.

"What is it M le Vicomte? Is there something bothering you?" He asked mockingly.

"You really are a monster!" I gasped. He glared at me once again.

"I..am...not...a...monster."He said through gritted teeth. I had no idea how much self control he was using not to kill me. I don't think I could imagine.

"Not since Christine anyway..." He said in a softer tone of voice. I could barely hear him.

"I don't care about what you think you are! You are a monster! I have the eyes of humanity to see that!" I replied.

I could see him taking a deep breath. I don't care to think about how close I was to death at that moment. Closer than I had ever been perhaps-with the exception of when I was hanging by his noose.

"All I did was come to warn you monsieur. You may heed that warning or ignore it-I don't care either way. But for your sake I hope you heed it." With that he faded back into the shadows and disappeared.

"ERIK! Erik! Get back here!" I screamed at the shadows. Then, when I realized that he was truly gone I sighed. This had been a stressful evening, with the lair and the police...

"Damn! I forgot to ask him about Giovanni!"

**Yeah...not my favourite chapter for sure...**


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry it's been a while. It was my birthday last Friday-for those of you who didn't know I turned 14. It was fun-I get my one birthday present tonight. I'm going to a play in Edmonton called "The Music of the Night-Celebrating Andrew Lloyd Webber." Fun, no? I'll tell you how it goes.**

**Anyway, I believe it's Christine's turn to get a say in things! I've been ignoring her for a little too long there...sorry! Now, shall we see what comes from this chapter? We shall-just read ahead.**

**POTO (c) Gaston Leroux and ALW**

Chapter 13 Christine

I had finally gather up the courage to go back to Erik. For good I hoped. But when I had gone into his house he had not been there. That had broken me. I had promised to go back and now he was not there. I had collapsed in a room and started to cry. After a few hours he had come back!

Then, the next day he told me what had happened to the mob. I won't lie. I was frightened out of my wits. He had murdered a whole mob! I knew all those people. I can honestly say that I will not miss some of them, like Carlotta, but it appalled me to know that he treated lives with such little value.

Would he treat my life with such little value? I could not help but wonder.

No, he said that he loved me.

But how did I feel about him?

This was a question that I could not answer. I knew, back at the restaurant when Raoul had walked in that I did not love him-not truly. It was a very shallow relationship. But how did I feel about Erik? I could not say. Every time I was in his presence my heart shook, I could not stop looking at him. I trembled, not in fear though. In what I have no idea. Whenever I was around him I felt in awe of his genius and a little afraid of it. And his face...what could I say? I have to admit, when I first saw it I was so frightened, I did not want to be near him. He was a monster to me before he got down on his knees and begged. Now, I have come to accept that it is part of his person. It didn't bother me anymore The thing that bothered me the most about Erik was the fact that he did not regard himself as a human.

This scared me. How could I feel anything for a person who did not consider himself human?

But I could not think of that now. All I could think about was how he had held me when he thought I was asleep. When he was singing for me I actually had fallen asleep. But when he stopped I had woken up, but chose to see what he would do if he thought I was asleep.

I was shocked when he picked me up. But he was warm so I instinctively pushed myself against him. Then, he surprised me. He kissed my forehead. I had not been expecting it. I almost opened my eyes when I felt my heart flutter with the simple contact. I could not help but smile and turned over to hide it from him. I heard him leave moments later.

I sat up, thinking about what had just happened.

That kiss had been...wonderful. Even if it had just been on the forehead. I felt an intimacy that was promised within it. Of course I knew what happened during....intimacy. We corps de ballet aren't as innocent as Madame Giry believed. Did she really think that Elle had left for a better job? I'm sure that the Earl Martez took very good care of her. After his child was born as well. He seemed like a nice man.

Anyway, what the older girls had described to me felt exactly like this. It seemed like I wanted...more from Erik. But at the same time my mind violently rejected him. It wasn't as personal as the kiss we had shared before he let us go-but it was still unnerving me.

It made me uncertain. It made me feel powerless, to not be able to control my life. I felt like it was spinning out of control.

And then there was Raoul. Raoul. How could I explain my motives to him? How do I explain that in the two weeks that I had been gone that I had time to think over our relationship and realize that that it is not one that I would not like to marry into? I thought of him as a brother. A very annoying brother at times, granted, but a brother none the less. I could not-more importantly I would not-marry him.

I know that I cut it off rather quickly but I figured the it would be a clean break. But then the fool had to come after me. In Erik's own home! Did he intend to die? I did not want to save him just for him to die because of a foolish mistake!

I must have sat there for a good hour to an hour and half, absorbed in my thoughts. Then, I heard my door open and saw a shadow slip in. I knew that it had to be Erik. Who else could it be?

"Angel?"I muttered. I saw Erik freeze and light a lamp.

"What are you doing up Christine?" I thought you had gone to sleep." He asked. I shrugged.

"It was just a quick nap. Where were you?" I questioned, curious.

"I was out...taking care of a few loose ends." He answered. I stopped-that did not sound good-especially coming from Erik.

"Erik, what happened?" I demanded.

He waved his hand.

"Do not worry yourself about the details Christine. I can assure you that no one was harmed." He said. I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew that he would never lie to me-he was incapable of doing so. Or so I believed.

"Oh good." I sighed. He raised an eyebrow but refrained from commenting. He sat down on the end of my bed and all of a sudden all of my senses were alive, I could acutely feel the weight of him on the bed. I almost jumped from the electric shock of it.

I must have flinched because Erik immediately stood up and started to apologize.

"I-I am sorry Christine. I did not mean to scare you." He stammered. I tried to smile but failed miserably because of the blood that was coursing through my system.

"You didn't-I swear Erik. I was just a bit jumpy from...a dream I had." I lied. A little white lie didn't seem that bad compared to the truth.

"W-would you care to tell me about it?" He asked softly-as if fearing rejection. My heart went out to him and began telling him one of the nightmares that I constantly had.

"I was sitting in papa's room, before he died. He was on the bed and I was sitting beside him. He was sick again and I could see his laboured breathing. He looked at me and as he was about to say something the light in his eyes went out. He was dead. Then, just as I was about to weep Death came and knelt next to papa. He seemed to touch papa's chest and all of a sudden his heart came out, except it was glowing, it lit the walls around me and I felt a sudden warmth. Then, death turned to me and said

"It's all your fault."

And disappeared. I then woke up." I explained, shuddering, not telling him the continuation of the dream. I did not want to re-live that part.

Erik placed his hand over mine and I felt the electricity again. I refrained from flinching this time, to my relief he seemed to believe my story.

"You should not be inflicted by dreams like that Angel. Would you like me to prepare a mixture so that you may sleep better?" He asked. I felt a little prick at my conscience. He was still calling me angel when my entire soul was red with lust and desire. It was not right.

"I am fine Erik, I am sure I have gotten it out of my system now. Thank you though." I added hesitantly.

Erik stood up and nodded.

"I never have given you a proper tour of my home, have I?" He questioned. I thought about it and shook my head.

"Please forgive my rudeness, mam'selle. I did not mean to be as rude as that. I suppose that I have been...preoccupied." He said, almost apologetically. We had never spoken about what had happened before, and I knew it would come up sometime, just not to-day.

"Would you like to join me?" He asked offering his hand. I hesitated and then joined mine with his.

He led me from the bed out into the hallway. Then, we walked around him, pointing to every door and explaining what was in it. Sometimes, he would let me in a room if it wasn't particularly dangerous. He refused to let me in rooms that had something that could harm me-whether it be poisonous plants or a dagger. He was adamant about it.

"What? And have you _killed_?" He replied with horror when I requested to see into a room. The look of pure dismay on his face prevented me from asking again.

At one point I thought that I heard some screams coming from a room that I was not allowed to enter. When I asked Erik about it he just waved his hand and replied that it was of no consequence. This frightened me slightly. What did he_ have_ in there? I do not think I want to know.

The last of our stops was the kitchen-as usual. Although I wasn't quite starving could have eaten some tea and pastries.

When he offered I accepted of course and he sat me down at the table, seemingly regretting letting go of my hand. I also missed the warmth of it..

_No, no, no I didn't! I couldn't miss it because I had no real feelings for him whatsoever! _

Why did I not believe myself? I didn't even want to begin to contemplate that thought.

"Christine?" The angel's voice called me out of my thoughts. I jerked up with a start and saw Erik looking at me, concerned.

"Are you alright?" He asked setting the tea in front of me. He walked over and put some pastries on a plate as well.

"Of course, forgive me. I had just been lost in my thoughts." I explained. He nodded his head, not pressing the point.

We sat in silence for a few moments, a very, very, tense silence I may add.

Finally Erik could not take it anymore.

"Why?" He exploded, banging his fist on the table. I jumped. "Why did you leave him? Why did you come back to torture Erik with all of this? Do you have any idea how much self control this is taking for Erik?"

I felt frozen. What had brought that on? What had happened on his little outing that had caused him so much worry and tension? To talk about things that were better left silent?

"E-Erik?" I asked softly. What was I supposed to say?

"Every moment Erik sees you-he needs to touch you. Do you realize the utter _torture _that you have put on him?" He demanded. I felt an overwhelming wave of guilt. Of course I knew-I had always known. Ever since he had first sang me _the music of the night . _How could I not have realized? And when he sang with me in his opera. No actor, no matter how good, could ever sing like that unless there was real emotion behind it...including me.

Now I suppose I have to admit it, do I not? I have always had feelings for my angel. I, being the fool I am, wanted to forget about them-about him. I wanted a nice, peaceful life with someone who loved me and could provide for me-namely Raoul. But after our little argument-as much as I didn't want to admit it-there was only Erik. Why else would I go to him? Not to Meg's or one of another acquaintance's home?

The answer was simple-there was no one else but Erik.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am Erik-I knew. I have known all along. But I have been afraid-a coward. What do you want me to say Erik? 'Come-let us go to bed when there has been no romantic relationship between us?' I can't do that! I never could and I never will! You know me better than that! In case you don't remember I also have someone else who needs a formal explanation! His name I believe is le viscount Raoul de Chagny!" I snapped. I knew that this would come about eventually-but not this soon.

As soon as I mentioned Raoul's name he stiffened and glared into the cup of tea, then he brightened.

"But Christine! You do not love the boy anymore! That means-it means that you never have! Not truly anyhow. Does this mean that Erik holds at least a piece of your heart?" He asked eagerly, a light in his eyes that I had never seen before.

I thought about that. Did he hold a piece of my heart?

No.

He held the whole thing.

I loved Erik.

**Wow-Christine finally realizes something! That's nice. Now they all live happily ever after and never are bothered again...**

**Do you honestly believe that?**

**I hope not. Raoul wouldn't give up that easily! But-how we wish he would! **

**Anyway-please R&R!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for taking so long to update! I really have no excuses. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. I have to say, this was one of my favourites to write. It was kind of a given I had to write it from Erik's point of view-but next chapter will be Christian's point of view. No, he has not disappeared off the face of the earth. He will be very much a part of this story. I love him too much for him not to be! Anyway-let's see where this leads us!**

Chapter 14 (Erik)

What has possessed me to cry out, to ask such a ridiculous thing you ask? It is quite simple, my jealousy of the boy. What he had said to me-it had truly and surely struck a chord in me.

Christine could never love a monster like me, yet why did she imply that she wanted to be near me? It must be out of pity, or perhaps fear. Both emotions which I loathe from Christine. She is my angel-I could not bear it if she were to fear or pity me.

Angel-surely that is the only word in any language that cannot be worn out! When a man calls his object of love an angel surely that word cannot be overused nor underused!

I looked at Christine, a look of confusion came over her. Then, suddenly amidst the darkness there was clarity, light. Something I could never be a part of.

"What can I say Erik? What do you expect me to say?" Christine demanded. I twisted a napkin in my hands, intent on making it appear and disappear at will. I wished at that moment I could have done the same.

"I apologize Christine, I should have not said that. I am truly the worst kind of fool am I not? It must seem that I enjoy inflicting self pain. For I keep giving myself to you so that you may reject me." I asked with a sigh, diverting her attention from her previous question. How would I answer it? I myself did not know what I expected of her. I desperately wanted a piece-no matter how small-of her heart.

"How can you say that? Why do you say that you are a fool when you have done nothing foolish? You have asked a simple question-which very well deserves an answer. What I mean to say Erik is yes, you do hold a piece of my heart. My Angel always shall." She replied, smiling.

I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces-poor child! She did not know what she was saying! She loved her angel-not me. No, it could never be me she loved.

"Ah-I see. Very well child. Come, now it is getting late, you shall sleep." I said stiffly. She looked up at me, the confusion clear in her eyes. As hard as I tried I could not force a smile to my lips.

I quietly led her to her chambers, not speaking. It was really not the poor child's fault! She did not know what she was saying. But it was quite clear. She could never accept me as Erik, only as her Angel of Music.

And how it hurt! I never thought I could feel such a pain as when she left me that night with the Vicomte. But then I thought she had accepted me for myself and that was the reason which she had left. But now my pain was ten times worse. I felt as though someone had taken my heart and ripped it out of my chest, and now there was an empty hole where it had once been.

I escorted her to her room-though I suppose she knew the way well enough by now.

"Erik? What is the matter?" Christine's timid voice asked me. I looked down at her.

"It is nothing dear child, there is nothing for you to be concerned about on Erik's part..." I reassured her gently. Yet another part of me spoke out at her bitterly _Oh yes dear child there is nothing for you to be concerned about on Erik's part-why not ask your precious angel? I'm sure that he would be happy to tell you! Then, you may go with him and see your father again! _ It said.

I did not know what to think of this new development. What would I do now? I couldn't let her stay with me! That would be far too painful! I would have to gaze upon her lovely face knowing that she didn't love me. I bet she didn't even feel anything but hatred towards me! She is a very good actress I'll have you know. She was a star after all!

I sat Christine down on her bed and she turned away, to gather her clothing. I took this time to gaze unabashedly at her. For a moment I thought I saw her flinch, but I must have been mistaken.

"Erik? Where _did _you go when you left me?" Christine asked me suddenly. I looked at her in surprise. Should I tell her? Should I lie? If I did I would risk losing her. Should I tell her the truth? If I did that I could lose her as well. Either way it was not a winning situation for me. But I couldn't deny Christine-she was my life now. Beyond her there was nothing. I had to tell her-the truth.

"I went and saw your dear friend. The Vicomte de Chagny." I admitted grudgingly.

She froze. Her eyes went wide as she looked at me and I saw fear in them.

"Erik-what did you do to Raoul?" She demanded. I looked at her with a certain type of sadness. Couldn't she believe that I did not harm anyone when I had distinctly told her that I had not harmed anyone?

"I have done nothing to the idiotic boy-yet. If he continues to challenge me and try my patience he will be unpleasantly surprised to find exactly what the human capacity for pain is before they die." I snapped, thinking of the boy's gall. Charles would have chosen me! He was a musician. He would have admired me.

Or did his duty as a father come even before his music? I know that Christine was now the most important thing I had ever had in my life-even above my music. And my music was always the light among the darkness throughout my life.

Was it really true that he would have chosen that _boy _before me? Would he not have seen that Christine being with me was the best thing for her? I would keep her safe-even if it cost me my life! I would have done anything for her! I would even let her go again if she were to be happy that way....

"Erik, why do you hate Raoul? Er-more specifically why do you want to kill him?" Christine asked, pale. "I'm not going to go back to him. I am not an item to be owned Erik. I am a person. If Raoul doesn't understand this...well, let's just say you have nothing to worry about!"

I looked at her sadly.

"You see my dear, as much as my heart wants to believe that my mind-the stronger part of my existence-knows that it is not true. You went with him once, he was your fiancée for quite some time. Yet I, I was nothing to you. I have always been your ange de musique yet the boy-he has been your lover! He represents my worst fears you see. And no matter what I cannot dispel them. I have found that people never change Christine. In all my years I have never truly changed. There could be something latent in them-some sort of passion that could be awoken that could make them _seem _like a different person. But they can never truly change. That is what happened to me when you came in to my life. Let me tell you a secret Christine. When I realized I had fallen in love with you I was terrified and furious. To love-or be loved is a weakness. And to be truthful there is nothing in me that should be used as a weakness. I had purged my body of loving anything except my music! But then you came, and you destroyed that perfectly put up barricade. I tried to resist-I really did. But when I learned that you needed an angel of music...I'm sorry Christine." I said, hanging my head in shame.

What I said was true. I had tried to get rid of my weakness but I could not hurt her! It would have killed me to see her get hurt! And then, when I thought I was going to die because I could not talk to her, touch her, or interact with her I heard her talking about her angel of music! I could not help it after that...I was utterly obsessed!

After that it all went downhill. I could not help myself! Christine was mine, _mine _to possess. Her voice was mine to mould! For that time she belonged to me and me only! Then that boy had to come and ruin it! That damned boy!What did he want with her? He could have had anyone! But he just had to have my Christine did he not? Of course he did! Erik never has anything he wants except for his music! All I wanted was her heart...

Was that so bad? Was it really so wrong for Erik to want something precious to him? Of course it was! Erik's existence was wrong! So-after that whatever I did was wrong! Maybe that is why Erik is not considered a human. His existence was not supposed to be...

"Erik?" Christine snapped me out of my thoughts. My head jerked up. She was staring at me with clear concern.

"Are you alright? That was the third time I had to call your name."She said. I once again could not bear to smile. My heart had been broken once again.

"I... apologize-I was...pondering something." I said awkwardly. She looked at me questioningly. Then I suppose she decided that she did not want to provoke me further.

"I see...I'm sorry Erik. I really am. I know that you didn't have any choice in loving me-not really anyway..." She started but I interrupted her.

"But Christine-don't you see? I may have no choice but I have thoroughly enjoyed it! Well...most of it perhaps would be a better way to phrase that. I did not particularly enjoy you running off with the boy..." I said with a casual shrug to hide my heartbreak. "But-I did enjoy it more than you could imagine! And you did what you had to. I had forgiven you the moment that you left Christine..."

When I looked up I saw tears running down her cheeks. I was startled, what had I done this time?

"Erik...why? I know that if I were you I would never be able to forgive the person who broke my heart." She whimpered. I looked at her somewhat desolately.

"My dear-there was never anything to forgive you see. What you did I know why you did it as well-you honestly believed you loved him. It is an understandable mistake. What you felt my dear was a childhood infatuation. Not that I mean to analyze your relationship with that...boy. But I cannot help it; the logical part of my mind needs it to be explained-for my sanity." I explained sadly.

"But Erik, why fight this hard for me? Wouldn't it be easier to forget then to fight?" She cried, tears in her eyes. I remembered a passage in a book I had read once. Ovid's poetry I believe.

"Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido: Attice, crede mihi, militat omnis amans." I whispered.

"W-what does that mean?" Christine asked, confused.

I believe the translation is: Every lover wages a war, Cupid has his own campaign. Believe me Atticus, every lover wages a war." I replied.

'What language is that?" She inquired.

"Latin. One of my favourite languages-I must admit. I prefer French of course. In all my years I have never heard such a fluent, romantic language..." I said, thinking of all the languages I had learned in my travels. Another favourite would be Italian. I find that language quite fascinating as well.

"Really? You'll have to teach me someday..." Christine said thoughtfully. Then she seemed to shake herself and look at me.

"But what does that have to do with anything?" She asked.

"Like he says Christine-every lover wages a war. I am not the only one. I may have given up more than most-and fought harder-but I am still one of the many lovers that have waged war. I took this in a literal sense and decided to actually wage a war. That day...in the graveyard I had declared war on him...on you both. That was my mistake you see. I take whatever I feel much too seriously." I managed to give her a weak smile. She looked at me in shock.

"You wanted to war a war?" She whispered. I nodded my acknowledgment.

"That I did my dear. I was ready to take the whole of Paris-the whole of France-to war just to have you. As you can see-that was obviously the wrong idea. I did only end up losing you of course. Though I do believe my face was also a leading factor in that." I spat, my voice filled with self loathing.

Christine made an exasperated noise.

"Your face doesn't matter Erik! For God's sake! How many times do I have to show you that?" She yelled.

"Oh really? So you are saying that if that boy had looked exactly like me you would have chosen him?" I asked sarcastically.

She glowered at me.

"As a matter of fact-yes, I would have! Raoul's not a murderer! He's never done anything wrong!" She argued.

"So you condemn me for something I have no choice to do? Who could blame me Christine, if I were to kill to protect myself, to eat or most importantly protect what is most important to me? Who could damn me for that?" I asked viciously. She paled.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, suddenly sedated with fear.

"Do you not think that people have tried to end me? Do you not think that I have had to protect myself-and you? Let me give you an example mademoiselle. Joseph Buquet. Do you think that I killed him for no reason? Of course not! He was making plans for you! Oh yes! Your cursed innocence! I protected you my dear! In the end everything I did was for you! For you loved me for myself! Or so I was led to believe. I have never been loved for myself you know. I have been loved because I have wanted to be. I have been quite tempted sometimes you know-quite tempted just to make sure that you had to love me! That there was no other man for you! But also-that would mean you did not love Erik for himself! Quite the irony was it not? Wanting to be loved for myself when I never could be! Even Erik does not accept himself! He is a repulsive monster! Fit for nowhere but these gloomy walls. The darkness welcomes me Christine! Have you ever noticed that children fear the dark? The fear the unknown and the way the dark seems to go on forever. But the dark has always been Erik's! Erik has always hated the light. The light exposes that for what it really is. The darkness is just another mask Erik is willing to wear!" I laughed humourlessly.

Christine, looked at me, shocked from this outburst.

"What do you mean by 'make me love you'?" She asked, horrified. I gave another terrible laugh, one that was devoid of any feeling.

"Did you not think that Erik has ways to make people do what he wants? He does indeed my dear! He could have chosen at anytime to simply rid the world of the viscount! But Erik wanted to do something normally for once! Quite a laugh is it not? A normal courtship for Erik! Such an absurd idea! For once Erik wanted to be a normal part of this planet-I daresay it is the first time I have wanted such a thing! To be a part of this world, to be loved for myself, all for _you. _And yet it is not good enough! It never has been! My mother...all I wanted was for her to love me! Did you know that Christine? All I wanted for her to love me...to love Erik! Show some sort of affection! Yet she could not! So instead, I drove her to madness! Have I told you that Christine? I drove my own mother to madness! I must say-it was surprisingly easy. All it really takes is a being that is ruthless enough. An animal if you will. Something that has no emotional attachment to the subject. I had been waiting long enough to be loved! That's all I ever wanted you know. Was to be loved for myself. I never thought that I would be granted that pleasure until you came! I had thought..for once I could be a normal man. No matter what my face looked like. I had thought that someone had looked into Erik's heart for once. And seen the unending capacity to love in it. But I had forgotten, I am fit for nowhere! Nowhere! Do you know what that is like Christine? No, of course you do not my dear, sweet Christine! It is lonely my dear! Quite lonely...to never be accepted for something that you do not understand at such a young age! Oh but I learned later! Quite well in fact. But until I met you the loneliness...the capacity to love never went away!" With that I buried my head in my hands and began to sob.

She looked at me sadly, as though she were about to break into tears as well.

"Erik-I do see. I do feel your pain. I may not be able to understand-or feel it completely but I do feel a tiny bit of your pain you see! I have always seen! When I saw you...when I was leaving with Raoul I felt my heart partially break as well. Erik-you are loved! You are loved for yourself! And you are loved by me!"


	15. Chapter 15

**My apologies-I honestly did not mean to take this long. But RL has been biting me in the butt as of late. And it gets worse-if I get on my basketball team that I'm trying out for Monday I will be even busier. Last year we had practices four days a week, a game and a tournament every second week. But still-please wish me luck!**

**This chapter would not be here without the amazing persuation skills of Chapucera-who kept prodding me until I finally got this done. And Heir de Erik who has been with me this whole ride.**

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Chapter 15 (Christian)

I ruined it. It was my fault, all my fault. I had ruined it. It had been I that had torn the mask off his face, that had ruined the entire truce that we had made. He had entertained me, showed me the bare minimum of his skills in music and yet managed to enthral me with his genius.

But his face...dear God! His face is something that is truly horrifying.

His face is something that should never be witnessed by another being. It is like a skull! The horrible sunken flesh, the nose that is not! His lips are malformed and twisted, it is truly amazing that he can make a sound from them. His flesh is thin and papery, yellow akin to a corpse! The translucence of the skin allowed me to see the pulsing veins that pumped his life's blood. His nostril on the right side looks as though it is not their.

When I had taken his mask his incandescent eyes were full of flames of rage. They were a vision of hell. He looked upon me with such rage! They drew me, called me into the darkness. I could not tear my gaze away.

The mangled flesh of his face was appalling, terrifying. It was horrific and I could barely keep my posture. But he did not hurt me....he had every right and he did not. He was terrified in his own right. I could see it. I could see his eyes, so blazing with fury and fear. And something else....something that seemed foreign to them. Pleading. I can't begin to think of what he could be pleading for.

As much as I would like to claim to understand him....the truth is I don't. I don't think I ever can. I don't know anything about him. I don't know if he has family, a love, what emotions he feels. I don't know if he has friends.

I was truly a fool thinking I could do something as childish as 'being friends' with him. How could you be friends with someone who you don't know? And removing his mask? I was truly being idiotic. I thought....I thought that we had something in common. I thought that he was lonely.

Maybe he was. I still don't know. It seems I will never know. I didn't know his _name_ for God's sake! I was so childish that I thought that it would be alright to call him 'The Phantom' and be able to call him a friend.

I learned too late this is not true. Why is it that everything I think that is good that happens to me always turns out to be a terrible mistake?

My mother.

I loved her you know. More than anyone. More than my father, more than myself. More than the earth itself.

And she left me too. It wasn't her fault. Oh no. I blame those doctors who said that they could cure her with their medicines and other things I dare not speak of. And the priests who prayed to their so called 'God'. I stopped believing in God a long time ago.

I knew about the baby my mother was carrying. They tried to hide it from me, I know that. But I was climbing the stairs one day to bring mother some flowers. I had found them and thought that they had been beautiful-like my mother. I was rushing up the stairs and I accidently ran into the doctor. He had quickly righted me and assured me that he was fine.

He then ruffled my hair and told me that I would be a good brother to the child that was one the way. I had been stunned, not comprehending what he had said. Then I had been delighted. Mother and father had conceived! I had a distant sense that they wanted another child. And I wouldn't be alone anymore!

I had thought that they were making excuses up at first to hide it from me-saying that mother was sick. She couldn't be sick! She was too strong for anything to happen to her!

But she was sick-and getting worse every day. Her breath was rasping and it sounded painful-even to me. I knew nothing of carrying a child so I was convinced this was a normal part of child bearing. Along with her constant mood changes. Father was terrified-I could tell. He was always in mother's chambers. And they would only let me in to see her for the smallest amount of time.

It wasn't unusual for papa to worry about mother or myself. When we had even the slightest cold he would always fuss and worry. So when he stopped going to work and started spending all the time with mother I didn't suspect anything was seriously the matter.

Then, in the last few days I finally realized that something really was wrong. Mother couldn't breathe and her face was turning a grey colour. Then, she was gone. There was no real warning. She had started coughing up blood in the morning. By the evening she was gone. I didn't know that she had died until papa sent a messenger to bring people to take the body away.

He was heartbroken. There was no more laughter in the house, no more joy. At the funeral I could comprehend that mama wasn't coming back. But she had to! I needed her! Papa needed her too! He was so sad!

And he needed my sister too! The one that mama was carrying! I knew it was a girl-it had to be. Mama couldn't be the only girl in the family. Now there were none...it was only me and father.

Life after mother died was terrible. I hated it. It was terrible-father was no longer the papa I knew. He was sombre and withdrawn. He no longer paid any attention to me-I reminded him too much of mama.

Then slowly I also became introverted. I no longer had any friends except for the select few that stood by me. That was five years ago and father has not made any progress. He is still grieving. I don't think he'll ever forget mama. She was his other half-his reason for living.

I believe the only thing that has stopped him from taking his own life multiple times is myself-I don't mean to sound self centered or of the like. I'm his only connection to mama and I need him. I can't lose two of my parents.

We buried the child with mother-and still no one has told me that she had conceived. There are no words to express how devastated I was to learn I would never hold her, never listen to her first words, see her first steps. Never be able to see her grow up in the word and show her things only a big brother can.

I named her-did you know that? Her name was Lucy....Mary and Lucy. Kieran and Christian. That would have been our family. There would have been more of us!

Lucy would never be the maid of honour at her brother's wedding, never be the bride at her own. She would never have children, see them grow up with the pride and joy. Never spoil her grandchildren. She would never see my own children and be proud of them.

She would never confide her fears to father, never run to mama and tell her about her first suitor. She would never have a first suitor.

Where did I get her name from you ask? Her name is derived from the Latin feminine term 'Lucius' which means light. I did pay attention to my Latin studies you see. No matter how brief they were.

My own name was not chosen by mother because of her faith in Christ. Even though my name does mean 'believer in Christ' her sister's name was Kirsten. She threw herself off a bridge into a river when my mother was just fifteen.

Mother grieved for a while. Then father came and they had me. She named me the male name of her sister. Mama never told me about her sister-never spoke of her. Father is the one that told me this.

My family is not a happy one. But we got by until mama died and Lucy died with her. Then our family fell apart. Father got his income and returned to work after a few weeks. But nothing was the same again. He seemed under the philosophy that money can buy happiness and cure everything that is wrong in the world.

He....he took up with the brothels that are in the city for an amount of time. He may still-I don't know. He would come home late at night and smell of cheap perfume and sex. He would try to hide it from me but could not. It was in those days I truly wondered what had become of my family.

I cannot guess what father was thinking in those days-was he trying to find some attachment to someone that might come to care for him? Maybe. Maybe he was so heartbroken he didn't know what he was doing? That is doubtful. No matter what the motive I cannot say that this man is the one I knew the first eight years of my life.

When I became sick he was once again terrified and paid attention to me. He became a real father again. Not a stranger who went through all the forms of emotion but never really meant it.

I became more and more sick until I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to die-to be with mama and Lucy. But I had to be strong. For father.

Then _he _came. Why did he come? He is quite obviously not used to people. I was behaving like a spoiled child. I won't blame that on my illness. It had been because I _was _spoiled. I was too caught up in my grief and childishness to realize it. And father couldn't have-he didn't spend enough time with me to realize this.

And the staff my father had employed certainly would not tell anyone about it! Father would not have believed them.

I am truly a fool. I drove someone away with my foolishness. I am ashamed of what I had become. I did not even stop to be grateful that he had cured me. I had been idiotic enough to think that I could go on to heal whatever was deformed in his soul.

That is something that I could never do. Healing his heart and soul....that is for whomever broke them. He was already a broken and violent man when he came to me

I could have only hurt him more...removing his mask-seeing the pain and horror that his terrible face has been cursed with.

Who was the man really? He was certainly no ghost. Everyone had heard of the Opera Ghost in Paris! The ballet rats spread rumours. Everyone at my school had talked about him. Those who had family that were patrons of the opera spread rumours like wildfire. If something had gone wrong during a performance it was the Opera Ghost's fault. When the local diva-La Carlotta croaked like a toad it caused an uproar!

That had been right before I had come down with my illness. After Carlotta had croaked and the chandelier had come down upon the stage the opera was under construction I fell ill. But even then we all heard about the abduction of Christine Daaè.

It was supposed that she was abducted by The Opera Ghost. Then the Viscount de Chagny issued counter claims. Saying that it was all a mistake. He had hired someone to act as the Phantom to get Mademoiselle Daaè so they could be together.

I was not sure what to believe. But it seems that the de Chagny family has more influence then the Epoque. Whatever credible witnesses the paper had previously had suddenly issued a statement that they had been mistaken.

Of course there was also the scandal of the of mob that had chased after the Phantom-never to return to the surface alive. The managers claimed that they had fell victims to the traps that the Commune had left behind.

It was a believable excuse-and a lot of people did think it true. Even the few times that father talked about it he seemed to believe the story. But I had thought that there was something amiss. Though I could not completely believe my instincts at the time.

But the question remains: was that man really The Opera Ghost? Or was he someone who had adapted the Opera Ghost's facade? Become obsessed with the mystery as so many others were prone to do? A man who had a terrible deformity of his own and wished to mimic the so called Phantom of the Opera's great achievement?

Somehow I didn't think so. This man was undoubtedly involved in the kidnapping of Christine Daaè. Was he also the ma that made La Carlotta croak? The man who supposedly brought the chandelier down? Was he involved in the death of the stagehand Joseph Buquet as the children in my school said? His death was pronounced a suicide by the genderarms.

The man was cloaked in mystery and suspicion. His eyes are like stars in the night.

He had been muttering her name! Christine! Surely this cannot be a coincidence!

But if he is the Opera Ghost what could I do about it? I cannot go tell anyone...I owe him that. And he gave me explicit instructions never to come after him. I have no doubt that he will kill me if I do not do as he says.

What was I to tell father? Would he care? Where had he gone when we had been arguing?

There were too many questions around me that didn't have answers.

I realized I was stiff and sore from laying on the ground where he had pushed me. Silent tears had trickled down my cheeks and my eyes were swollen and red. My arm had the beginnings of a bruise from where he had pushed me down.

I was fighting back sobs as I thought of what I could do to make everything right again.

There was nothing! I had no contacts to the man! And father would never tell me!

How would I fix father as well? I wanted him to be happy! He deserves happiness for what he has endured.

He had lost my mother and his child, all he had was me. And I was certainly not fit for company of him.

I loved him though. But everyone around me seemed to be cursed from me. Mother, Lucy even father has had a difficult life since I appeared.

And now suddenly this man whom I thought I could heal has been hurt even more. I did not recognize his broken and shattered heart. Now I may have mangled it beyond repair. There may not be hope to repair it.

It seems impossible to conceive that just over a fortnight ago I was worried about arithmetic! So much has happened...

I must have sat there for hours. Eventually it was past dark. All the staff had retired to their homes or quarters if they had decided to live with us.

I heard our horse, Icarus, clop up the street. He was pulling father's carriage. They stopped in front of the house as father went and roused the stable boy.

When James retrieved Icarus and took him away I heard father come inside, the giant oak doors that led into the foyer creaking open, then closed.

I made sure that I had cleared my eyes and there was no residue from the tears I had shed. It would do me no good for him to see the tears.

The sadness and despair in my eyes was another matter. I don't think that they will ever go away. Hopefully he will not notice them...

I rushed out of my room, putting on a false cheerful face.

At first I was confused, there was the sound of two men's voices. Then I realized father had probably brought home one of his clients. I've never heard him do that after mama died but who knows. He used to do it before.

I quietly descended the stairs, seeing if I were allowed to come down. I didn't notice the gentleman who was with father because I was trying to see if he would permit me to approach. I eventually caught his eye and he nodded. I bounded down the stairs like any real son should and went up to him.

"Father...where were you? Why are you home so late?" I asked, trying to maintain a cheerful poise.

He looked at the gentleman slightly then turned to me.

"I have been handling a very difficult case lately Christian." He began. But I cut him off.

"I know that! But you never told me what it was about." I was hurt-he usually did discuss his work with me to an extent. I wanted to be a lawyer as well when I got older.

Father glared at me, I shrunk back. I knew that I was not supposed to interrupt.

"I'm sorry." I muttered, looking down. Father nodded his approval and continued.

"The reason you did not know this is because I am not allowed to talk about it Christian. It's called confidentiality issues. It states that I am not allowed to discuss personal information from a case or client unless the client or clients give me explicit instructions that I am allowed to discuss the case."

I nodded, he had told me this before.

'Well, since you already knew that, let me introduce you to our new houseguest until his case comes along. Christian-this is Giovanni."

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**I had to make Christian's character more mature. I didn't like how I had him portrayed before. He's a troubled little boy, he was pretty spoiled at the beginning and I hope I fixed that. This just gives you some background on him and his father.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Well-I got back from Vegas about 3 days ago. I had a blast! Lots of Phantom filled fun for me. I saw it 4 times on stage there (it's really cheap for students...plus I have connections.) So I had a grand time. I look back now and realize why I wanted to become an R/C shipper at first-the man who plays Raoul in Vegas is amazing. He's actually one of the best actors I have ever seen. Anyway-so he inspired me to write a chapter from Raoul's point of view! Now-everyone say thank you Andrew for inspiring W~R to write...**

**Anyway-I do not own Phantom of the Opera. If I did I would be a man. I am not a man.

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Chapter 16 (Raoul)

Everything was truly lost to me now. My brother, Philippe had been found dead. He had drowned in the Seine river while taking his lover, Sorelli, to the Louvre. Had life always been this bleak? Was it really just six months ago that I had been the happiest man on earth? I had the woman I loved proclaiming her love to me, we were to be married.

I love her, more than life itself. Christine has stolen my mind, soul and heart. I think of her every waking moment, long for her every second, and love her with all my being. But does she really love me? Or does she love him?

I am no Byronic hero, I know that. I am the prince in fairytales. I am the one that rescues the fair maiden from the monster. I have no trouble with this part of my life. I am of wealth, but this does not mean I am a spoiled child. Though I may be at times.

I was raised by my aunt and coddled by my aunt and two sisters. My brother was my male companion. He was 20 years older than I, but was great fun. He was always teaching me and had the best manners.

He approved of my enlisting in the navy, though I am now done my recruitment. I do not have to go back unless I want to. In truth, I loved my brother. He disapproved of my union with Christine, calling her 'a piece of baggage that is only here for your money and status.' In fact the rest of the speech went something like this 'she'll only abandon you or take on other....men....did you not tell me about the man's voice in her dressing room? That is probably one of her lovers.'

I had not told him about the Phantom of the Opera-who would have believed me? I did not believe in him until he killed Joseph Buquet! He was the one who stole Christine from me...but did she really love me?

I have always been plunged by doubt of her. When we were on the rooftop I asked her "If Erik were good looking, would you love me, Christine?" and she had replied "Oh, my betrothed of a day, if I did not love you I would not give you my lips! Take them, for the first time and the last." And I did.

But she gave him her lips as well....she did love him. I know she does. As she said "If I did not love you I would not give you my lips." And she gave myself and him her lips. So whom does she love?

I want to say it is me. But I know it is not. She is in love with him-as I told her on the roof it is the type of love then no one admits-not even to themselves. It is love of the most exquisite kind.

I wonder if she has admitted it to him yet, her love. Or even to herself. For she had long denied it. How was one to truly love if they could not even admit it to themselves? I have never denied my love for Christine, even as a young boy I knew what I wanted and I knew that I was going to marry her someday.

I remember the exact day that I had met the blond haired angel. I had been at Perros, with my two sisters. I heard someone shouting, crying out for help. I saw a red scarf floating amid the waves, I had been in my Sunday best because my sisters had insisted that we take a walk along the beach after going to Mass.

I dove into the waves, heedless of my sisters angry shouts. After all-I was a man now! I was 11 years of age! I could take care of myself and did not need any females to looks after me! I swam furiously, soaking myself with the salty water. There was an undercurrent beneath the brutal waves, it almost pulled me under.

Finally I reached the red scarf, grabbing it before it could float away. I swam back to shore, tiring fast. As I reached solid ground I heard my sisters obnoxious voices, screaming for someone to save me. When I regained my sense of balance I held my trophy up triumphantly.

Suddenly I felt a tugging on my soaked shirt. I looked down to a blond haired little girl looking at me with big blue eyes. I felt entranced, wondering who this girl was.

"E-exuse me monsieur." She stuttered adorably, "B-but that is my scarf you rescued from the water may I please have it back?"

She was a tiny little thing, though I guessed she was no more than a year or two younger than I. I bent down to speak with her.

"Of course-here you go." I said, handing her the sopping wet scarf. Her smile may have lit up Paris it was so brilliant.

"Thank you so much! Please-come meet my papa!" She cried happily, tugging my shirt in the general direction of the houses. I dared glance back at my sisters, wishing I had not. They were glaring daggers at me. They opened their mouths, surely to reprimand me but I did not hear them.

I looked down at the petite girl who was almost dragging me towards her house by the sea. I smiled at her determination and gently took her hand as she led me to her papa. I didn't glance back at my sisters again, I did not want to.

The girl's father was a nice man, though he was a dreamer type. He often played his violin, forgetting to take care of Christine. That was why she had been alone on the beach when I had rescued her scarf. Christine told me this was normal, he had taken the loss of her mother quite hard.

So, when I played with Christine we were often alone. We had picnics in the attic, played among the waves and often told stories. Occasionally Charles would tell us stories as well and play the violin.

Eventually though the paradise had to be lost. My sisters were furious with me for playing with the 'common folk' when I should have been taking my lessons on how to become a proper future Viscount. But since I was a man and technically my position in society was higher than theirs all they could do is scold me.

They did what they could though, they wanted me groomed for the Viscount position so I could one day replace Philippe and they could receive much more money from me than him. So, they decided that at the end of that magical summer we would return to Paris, giving me less than a day's notice to alert my friend, and my love.

I was devastated that I had to leave her behind, I pleaded and cried and shouted at my sisters to let me stay, it was to no avail. We were leaving and never coming back and it was final.

I told Christine of my news, trying to be strong as I told her. She sobbed when she found out, crying about how she hated my sisters as well. I looked down at the little blond angel in my arm, crying at how unfair the world was and I knew then that I loved her.

I eventually calmed her and told her that nothing would truly separate us. I told her what I thought to be a harmless lie at the time, meaningless platitudes for a suffering girl. I told her that when she found her angel of music, that her father had spoken of, we shall find each other once again.

How utterly ironic it turned out to be in the end! But, she and even partially I, had believed this and calmed us both for the while. I promised to send her letter when I could, wanting any contact with her I could.

Eventually we got back to the de Chagny estate in Paris, where my brother had been waiting for us. My father was on his deathbed, but it would be two years before he finally passed on and Philippe formally received the title of 'Count de Chagny' while I was handed down the Viscount title.

But, we arrived at the estate. My sisters and brother were not on good terms, he refused to convince father to give them their dowry before they were wed. So, they were furious with him and he with them from their incessant whining.

I corresponded with Christine for about a year after I had left Perros. But, one day I received a letter that explained that Christine and her father had left the house, taken in by a good man by the name Valarius. The new house owner did not know their address or where they had moved.

Eventually, I had matters to attend to that I thoroughly despised. And before I knew it almost 10 years had passed since I had first met that little girl by the sea.

Then, Philippe encouraged me to become a patron of the arts. His lover, Sorelli, was the lead dancer of the corps du ballet at the opera house. I am not artistic in the least, though I do enjoy the arts, so that is where I chose to patron.

Then, the night of the gala came...I was astounded.

The Elyse from Hannibal was stunning, intoxicating-a tour de force. No words to describe her! She looked familiar, but her voice was beyond anything I have ever heard. Then, in act three when she was singing one of her solos it came to me.

This was Christine Daaè! It had to be! She looked so much like the girl from the sea-and her voice, though it was perfect, still had that ring of purity in it. And it was her.

That soon became not only a courtship of love, but of life and death as well! Christine also had a madman that loved her. And she was frightened, I calmed her fears as I should of. But I was at a loss as how to truly comfort her. In the end, I proposed marriage to her and she accepted.

I was blissful and in love. For the time he was gone we spent time as we never had before-playing as we had as children, speaking our minds or simply content to be in each other's presence. Despite my rows with Philippe I was truly happy.

Then he returned and everything was ruined. He shattered Christine, taking her and demanding she make a choice. I assured her I would rather die than see her with someone she truly did not love. At the time i thought I was speaking of him, now I am not.

But I currently have no time for thinking of that. I have to plan my brother's funeral-someone who died far too early, make sure my sisters have decent transportation from London to Paris for the mourning period, manage all the estate accounts and take over as the head of the de Chagny clan.

And I will also have to make sure everyone is aware that a man by the name of Giovanni has disappeared. I truly care for the man, he was kind to me. I would be devastated should any harm come to him.

Also, I had to find where Christine was. I truly doubted the monster did not know where she was. I knew she was with him. I knew this because I also knew that she loves him. Whether she was to admit it to herself or not.

It may be painful for me, it may kill me, but if Christine truly loves him then I shall respect her wishes as a dog would. I would retreat to a corner, left to die, but content in knowing the one I love with my heart mind and soul is happy.

But I could not think of that now. I have to decide when the funeral shall be, where it shall be, such trivialities as that.

Why could they not let me be in my grief? I have just lost my only brother in a tragic accident and they are concerned whether the tables should have white roses or purple orchids? I cannot answer that!

The world is a truly infuriating place at times do you not agree? Many look upon the count's position in awe, as I once did as a child. Now I look at it with a weariness and dread.

I know I will have to take it over after the official mourning period for my brother. And it scares me, as Erik scares me. I know it is inevitable but I do not want to face it right now.

My brother inherited the position at the age of 33. And people wondered how he did it at such a young age. I am now 21, nearly 22 and I cannot possibly be ready to take this burden on.

Why do the events in my life suddenly look quite impossible?

Maybe one day I shall understand everything.


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry for making everyone wait so long. I had been hoping to get this chapter out much earlier, but it seems that fate conspired against me and made this impossible. I was sick, then had school, then basketball. It's been insane. Anyway-I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Most of it was written at 4:30 am while watching the Bob Newhart show....**

**Phantom (c) Gaston Leroux and ALW-I wouldn't be writing phan phics if I owned Erik.

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Chapter 17 (Christine)

Dear God-what had I just admitted? Had I really just told him I loved him? I hadn't meant to tell him. But he had looked so...sad. So lonely and heartbroken. What has been done to this man? What had _I _done to this man?

I had betrayed him, hurt him, and then killed his soul so there was nothing left. That is what I had done. I had destroyed the only thing this man had left: his ability to love. Or so I had thought, he still loved me! He had said so! And not only that he had admitted that he had enjoyed loving me! That it had given him purpose in life!

How was I to tell him that I did love him, but I also feared him as much as I loved him? His temper terrifies me, he killed a whole mob in his rage! How was I to tell him I was scared that he would one day lash out at me and without meaning to hurt me? I couldn't. I couldn't admit that.

For now I would have to content myself in assuring myself that he would never hurt me, he couldn't. Even when he had been completely mad when he had kidnapped after Don Juan the worst he had done was push me down. He had never truly hurt me physically. But mentally...I have to believe he has scarred me. But I can't not forgive him. I love him, I love him more than anything. That means that I will somehow have to overcome my fear of him.

When I realized that Erik had not spoken a word since I had admitted my love to him I examined him, not sure what to do. Why was he not saying anything? Did I not just say the words he wanted? Had I not told him of my love? Worst of all, what did he think of it?

Erik stood up from where he had been sitting at the table. He paced the kitchen for a moment, I watched his feet walk back and forth, back and forth until I became dizzy.

My heart increased its frantic beating as he came to a stop and looked at me. I could not read any emotion from him, whether it came from his eyes for the half of his face I could see there was no emotion whatsoever.

I was alarmed, what had I said? Why was he not answering me? Had I done something wrong? Had I given any sort of sign that may lead him to believe that I do not love him? Erik is incredibly insecure, there are times when I thoroughly believe that he thinks he is a spider ready to be crushed by one's feet.

"Erik? What is wrong? Please, say something." I begged. He just regarded me with those remarkable eyes that pierced my soul.

"You should leave me Christine. I have obviously done something to you. You cannot possibly love me. Please...leave Christine, never come back. I cannot have you think something that is not true. I do believe you know the way out." His voice broke halfway through.

I sat there in shock. What had he said? No..no! I wouldn't leave him! And I do love him....if I were to leave him I would die! I couldn't leave him.

"Erik? Please...don't leave me! Don't make me leave!" I pleaded. He regarded me haughtily.

"You have obviously been lying to me all along mademoiselle. Either you have come under my influence without my knowing or you have not broken your engagement to the Viscount. You are obviously trying to fool me into believing that you do love me. When I know you fear me. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. I do not blame you mademoiselle. If I were you I would be frightened of myself as well. But the question remains why you are down here when the boy is above the surface, waiting for you. Did you have a lover's spat and so you came to 'poor Erik' for shelter?" He spat. I looked at him in dismay. What had I done wrong? I had told him I love him! Was that not enough?

Wait-did he think Raoul and I...? We were not still together! I may not love him as much as I love Erik but I would not allow Erik to take his anger out on Raoul for something that was not his fault!

"I have not been lying to your Erik. I really do love you. I have broken my engagement with Raoul. He's my friend Erik-more like a brother to me than a romantic interest. Please believe me." I begged him helplessly.

"If you have broken your engagement with that boy then it's obvious that your mind has been twisted against you Christine. You cannot possibly love me." He countered. This stunned me, why did he believe that?

"Why do you believe I can't love you Erik? I can-and I do!" I told him. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Need I remind you mademoiselle that 'poor Erik' does not need your pity? You paid him no mind on the rooftop with the Viscount de Chagny. In fact if I remember your exact words were 'horror, horror, horror.' In regards to this _face _that I seem to be in possession of. Oh...and the fact that you claimed that I kidnapped you that night at your debut. I believe your words were "Enter at last, master." Had you not begged me to appear to you I would have been happy watching you from the shadows!" He raged.

I was shocked!

"So-this is all my fault now isn't it? Not yours...no, no-it's not your fault that you pretended to be the Angel of Music my father was going to send to me!" I replied.

He turned away from me for a moment, it seemed as though he were shaking. I could not understand why. Was he angry?

Then he turned back to me, putting the mask back in place. That's when I realized who uncomfortable it must have been for him, having to wear it every single moment. As far as I knew he slept with it on!

"Can you honestly say to me Christine, look me in my eyes and tell me that you would have accepted help from a scarred recluse who has never taught before? Tell me that you would not have left me for that boy as soon as he came into your dressing room if I had not pretended to be your Angel of Music? That....that if I had come to you as a normal man you might have loved me?" He asked softly. I felt my heart break for this man. What horrors in his life had he faced?

"No Erik I can't. But can you honestly tell me that you didn't like being my Angel of Music? I know you adored it!"

He sighed, looking at me with those pain filled eyes.

"Yes, I did love being your Angel of Music Christine. But not for the reason you think! It is not because I enjoy tricking young girls. In fact, I have never had any contact with young girls before you and Meg Giry. I loved it because I was with _you_. Had you seen me once, taken one look at me before then I would have gladly died a dog at your feet." Suddenly he stalked towards me, looking furious. I drew back, frightened and still not used to his mood swings.

"But no-what did you decide Christine? You decided to go with _him_. And you did leave poor Erik to die. Alone. You should have never come back Christine. You could have had a good life with him. A nice, normal life that doesn't include a freak or a monster. What will people think of you now? You should not have your life ruined because someone believes that your innocence was taken by a monster. You'll end up leaving me anyway. Everyone does." I could hear his voice almost falter. This was affecting him more than he was showing.

This convinced me. He didn't mean any of this, this was just a show to not let him get hurt by me.

"Erik, I will not run. I won't give anyone the chance to say that. I love you. I will always love you. I clearly didn't love Raoul though I thought I did. And I didn't love him because the only person I loved was you. It's always been you. Only you." I said gently, laying my hand on his arm. He looked at me, blinked then looked around.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, intrigued. He looked back at me.

"The pink elephant that comes and takes you away. You know-every time I have this dream. Sometimes it's blue. But usually pink. And wearing your leotards. Really, if you are going to make me believe this is real please pretend you know what I'm talking about." He explained still looking around.

I'm not sure if I ever needed to know that. No wonder Erik does not sleep often. He was still looking around as though expecting an elephant...or something...to come through the kitchen wall at any time.

"Erik, this is not a dream. I promise you that no blue elephants are going to appear." I laughed softly.

He frowned at me.

"They're pink elephants. There's a difference." He said, looking for all the world as though he didn't believe me.

I patted him on the shoulder.

"It's all the same to me Erik. But, I do love you and I am here and real. This is not a dream." I reassured him.

A look of utter awe crossed his face. As though he couldn't imagine anything more perfect than me admitting my love to him.

"You...you really do love me don't you." He asked breathlessly. I nodded, wondering what to do now.

"That's what I was trying to tell you Erik. I do love you." I replied firmly. He closed his eyes for a minute, then slowly opening them to see I was still there.

"I-I've never heard anyone say that they have loved me before." He admitted softly.

"I know. And I'm sorry for that Erik. People are fools." I said. He nodded, chuckling.

"I'm smart enough to know that my dear. After all, it is people who picked Carlotta over you."

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, I knew I was blushing. Did he have to compliment me so much? I was truly not as great as he seemed to think. My voice was a dull comparison to his.

He saw my blush and laughed heartily; I wondered what was so funny but wisely kept quiet. With Erik you never knew when his mood would go from jovial to murderous.

"You are far too modest my dear! You will never become a great diva if you do not have an ego!" He chortled once he had calmed down. I smiled timidly, knowing he was right.

After a few minutes of awkward silence Erik sighed, making me jump.

"Christine, I know you _believe _that you are in love with me. But I do know you fear me Christine. And you have a reason to. I am a dangerous person. There is nothing that can help that. My temper is unruly and hell-like. I cannot knowingly condemn you to that. What I did before was....wrong. I should have never pretended to be your Angel of Music. I should have stayed in the shadows where I belong, admired you from afar. If...if you would like to forget me, I will return you to the surface and I will disappear. Never showing my horrible face again." He said sadly, as though he had seen the light at last.

I took his hand, wanting to do something violent to get through to him but not actually hurt him. Were all men this stubborn? My papa wasn't!

"Are you truly an idiot?! I love YOU! I do not want to return to the surface! I want to stay here with you and be your bride! Is that enough for you? Do I have to do something more to prove myself?" I demanded.

If possible he paled even further, from what I cannot be sure of.

"You-you wish to be my bride? To bind yourself forever to Erik?" He asked, I knew I was sinking deeper and deeper into dark waters when I heard him refer to himself in third person. I was barely keeping my head up as it was! Soon I would start drowning!

"Yes Erik-I wish to marry you. It is my choice. Please, I don't want Raoul-I want you. And I want to bind you to _me _so that I know that you won't run away from me, and won't leave me by myself without you. I couldn't stand that Erik. You mean the world to me." I said honestly, praying that he would get it this time.

He looked at me with such sad eyes. Eyes that had seen death, lust and such sorrow I was unable to comprehend all of it.

"I'm so scared Christine...I'm scared that someday you will come to your senses again and realize exactly what you have married, scared that you'll reject me, scared that this is all a dream that I'll wake up from soon. You left with him once Christine, if you did it again I would die. My heart is a fragile thing, and it has been beaten enough that if it has been harmed anymore there will be nothing left of it."

I saw he was desperately trying to hold back his tears, showing that he could be strong. I gently took his hand and pressed it to my lips, feeling the cold, dead flesh. But I did not shiver from revulsion, nor from fear. The shiver that went down my spine was of love.

"I know that you are not inclined to believe me Erik, but please. I do love you and I want to be your wife in every way-to walking with you in the park on Sundays to what the...marriage bed includes." I blushed pink at the mention of what my wifely duties would include.

He looked as though he had been given a shock. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung partially open.

"You truly want to be my wife Christine-allowing me to consummate the marriage? You will not be afraid?" He asked, as though hardly daring to hope that this was real.

"I do Erik-I want to be able to love you in every way, and for you to love me back." I confirmed.

He did not move for a moment, then finally said

"We will discuss this later. I need to go out and run some errands. I trust you will be able to take care of things on your own? I shall be back within two hours."

I nodded, surprised at his sudden change of attitude but told him I would be fine. He left soon after and I settled down into an armchair in the library to read. A fire, blazing brightly in the fireplace warmed the room and kept the dank smell of the lake at bay.

I was slowly lulled to sleep by the warmth and the melody of Erik's music running through my head.

XXX

I was jolted away by a banging from outside my room, my heart leaped and I trembled. I wondered what was out there, I was terrified out of my wits. Erik did not bang. He was far too graceful for that. I heard the footsteps come towards me and open the door to where I was, I huddled against the chair, trying to make myself as small as possible.

"Christine?" I heard the Angel's voice inquire and I sighed with relief.

"I am in here Erik-please come in." I called out.

I was shocked when he came through the door, he was in a state of disarray. His jacket was hanging loose over his frame, several buttons had been ripped off, his trousers and shirt had been ripped in places and he was soaking wet.

"Erik! What happened? Are you injured?" I asked desperately, spying blood on the white linen of his poet's shirt.

It is nothing my dear. A simple mishap to do with the Viscount. Oh-by the way, I was asked to give you this." As he spoke he fished out a piece of parchment that had miraculously escaped his soaking and handed it to me.

I looked at him suspiciously as he eyed me back apprehensively. Then, I slowly opened the note to see Raoul's familiar writing.

_Dear Christine_

_I cannot be sure whether this will reach you or not-this madman refuses to tell me your whereabouts and where you are unharmed. _

_But, I trust that he will keep his word and deliver this to you safely. I am sure you are hidden somewhere in his house, thus meaning that you have not heard the latest news. _

_My brother Philippe has passed away, he drowned at the Louvre while taking Sorelli there. You may be wondering why I am telling you this._

_I want to invite you to his funeral this Saturday at 11:30 am. I am not sure if he will allow it but if you are able please attend. We have much to clear up and talk about. Especially when this monster showed up at my doorstep declaring that he had one and you were marrying him. _

_Please, try to convince him to let you attend. I would like to hear what you have to say before anything. _

_Your childhood friend,_

_Raoul_

I turned and looked at Erik.

"Will you be attending the funeral?" He asked quietly. I thought about it for a moment, then replied.

"Yes."


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm super excited right now for more reason than one! I'm practically bouncing off the walls! For one: I auditioned for our school play The Wizard of Oz and got the role I wanted-the Wicked Witch. So I should be busy with that our play premiers on March 31st. So we have a 2 months. We started rehearsals last week. **

**The second-and more recent- reason I'm bouncing off the walls is because I met Hugh Panaro last night! I went to see him in a concert in Edmonton and he was there with 4 other Broadway singers. They were all amazing. Hugh's Music of the Night made me cry. As did his 'Anthem' from Chess. But he was so nice to me when they let me backstage afterward! It was amazing. **

**Enough of my babbling. I don't mean to bore any of you. I'm just super excited that I got his autograph.

* * *

**

**Chapter 18 (Kieran)**

To tell the truth I never expected anything to turn out the way it did.

My wife dying was one tragedy followed by a series of them. But, once Christian became sick I realized just how much more I had to lose. I could not let my son pay for my philandering ways. I would never forgive myself if I did. Had he not suffered enough already?

Whenever _he _came I made sure to stay well away from the pair of them. They had their own time that did not involve me. I still didn't know his name. I doubted he was the real Fantôme de l'opera.

I had covered part of that case a couple years ago when a diva was suing the opera for it's 'ghost'. We searched high and low yet there was no evidence of any being in the opera. The charges were dismissed and I went on with my life, only hearing whispers of rumors about the ghost.

But I never once believed that those rumors were true. Then again, the man had been hiding under the opera. It seemed his home was there. He wore a mask and his voice...his voice was heavenly.

I took great interest in the case of Christine Daaé. It was not often that one goes missing in front of an auditorium of people. But, the claims of the de Chagny family was enough to settle most people's appetites for the case.

But I had been suspicious along with some of the other minds in Paris. If the Viscount de Chagny hired a man to pretend to be the Phantom then why bother shooting at the man and bring in the law enforcement?

But, I had figured that it was the Viscount's way of covering an illicit affair that his fiancée was having. After all-no man would want a woman who society knew was compromised already! Particularly if it was rumored that their intended had been bedded by the Phantom of the Opera!

So, I had never believed in the Phantom. But, this man seemed so ghostly that I had to rethink my opinion. What if the opera really did have a ghost? And that he lived 5 cellars below ground?

And if he did-what would I do? Would I turn him in to the proper authorities like I ought to? I was a lawyer-a man of justice. Or, should I let him go free? The girl returned with her fiancée unharmed besides a few scratches and bruises. And he had saved my son.

Then, just when I thought I had reached my conclusion I was summoned to my office.

There, I met the man named Giovanni. He was a delicate old man and I was confused as to why I were there.

The man wanted to make his will. I agreed to do so, but was confused as to why I was forced to leave my house late at night for this.

I got to the office and saw the man there. I questioned him as to why this could have not waited. He replied that he had family troubles. I was confused, and asked him to sign the forms that officially stated he was my client. I asked him about this and he explained.

He had two daughters that were both vying for the family fortune. Both were married and received their dowry. I understood this part, I had many clients with this problem. I expected him to ask me to help him pick the daughter that was to inherit.

But this was not the truth. One of his daughters, the oldest had hired a private investigator who had instructions that if he were to walk into a lawyer's office make sure that the fortune to her. Even death was an acceptable option.

I was confused, so he wanted to give the money to the second daughter? But apparently this was not the case.

He wanted to give the fortune to a man who was not a part of the family. He was named Erik. But, the problem was that Giovanni had not seen Erik in many years and only knew he lived in Paris by accident. And he was not sure exactly where he was.

I asked if the man named Erik had a surname. Giovanni shook his head and told me that he had hoped one day he would have been honored with the boy choosing his. This had not happened. But the boy was still the closest thing he had to a son.

I promised to help him look for the man. When he described him I knew immediately who he was. Giovanni had been shocked but extremely excited. He explained that he not only wanted to give him the money but he had some personal issues to sort out with the man.

I had decided to take him home. But, on the way out the door we had been attacked by a rather large thug.

We had been walking innocently out the door, when suddenly I saw a hulking shape behind Giovanni.

The man did not appear armed, there was no glint of metal among the oil lamps. But I could not be sure. To tell the truth I was completely terrified. I did not handle a lot of high-risk clients.

I was armed with my pistol, I did not leave my office without it. For there had been the odd time that I had been attacked.

The man looked ready to attack the old man. I could not let this happen or else he would not find the man he was looking for. The Phant- no, Erik. And the money would automatically go to the oldest daughter.

"Now, I doona want to hurt ye lad. But yer daughter promised me a lot of money for this job. I ken you know who I mean. Doona fasch. I willna hurt ye intentionally unless I do not get the money." The thug said in a heavy Scottish accent.

"P-please. I don't want any harm, I just want to make things right again." The old man begged.

The thug dropped the hand he had on the man's shoulder in confusion.

"I'm afraid I doona ken what ye mean. Ye are Giovanni aye?" He asked. Giovanni nodded slowly.

"That I am. And I am under the assumption that my eldest daughter hired you?"

"I am no' allowed to tell ye anything. My advice would be to give me the rights to the money so ye can go on living peacefully and knowing that yer family is well to do when ye are gone."

I was confused-was this man actually trying to help the old man? Oh well-no matter what he was a threat to my client and I could not have that.

He was debating with the old man about the money, they were both becoming more and more agitated. I snuck around behind him and hit him on the head with the muzzle of the gun. He crumpled instantly.

Giovanni looked at him in shock then at me.

"Is he going to be okay?" He whispered. I nodded,

"Yes, he's a strong man. He'll wake up with a God-awful pain in the head and perhaps a bump but he shall be fine." I responded. The man sighed in relief.

"Thank you. I don't think he's a bad man. He was just doing what my daughter employed him to do."

"I understand. I believe that it would be safest to stay at my house for now. Besides, that is where Erik will be. If not right now then tomorrow."

A joyous expression came over the man's face, then one of peace.

"I shall finally be able to make amends." He murmured. I was highly curious of what he meant by this. But it was not my place to ask-I was his attorney-not his keeper.

I cleared my throat, trying to avoid making anyone cry. If there was something I couldn't handle it was tears. Thank God my son very rarely cried. I would never be able to handle that. Especially if he was crying because of me.

I loaded the elderly man into the carriage and climbed into the front to take the reins. I had left my driver at home, and given the staff a day off. I had expected to stay home with Christian and Erik.

And now, this man was giving me more information about the man I had practically living in my house than I could have ever found on my own. The man my son was growing more and more attached to every day and who stirred my curiosity in a way no man had before.

We arrived at my estate about half an hour after we left, I had bought property near the edge of the city when Christian was born. Our back lot was just of the Seine river. Mary said that it would give the boy his freedom.

We arrived at the house and I immediately knew something was wrong. As soon as I stepped through the door there was an oppressive silence in the house. You could have cut the tension with a knife.

Giovanni must have sense something wrong as well because he immediately looked at me worriedly and asked,

"Is there something I should know about?" I nodded.

"I would appreciate if you didn't ask about my son's mother. My wife....she died about 5 years ago." I managed to choke out. The man nodded wisely.

"I see. Thank you very much for telling me."

Suddenly I heard feet running down the stairs. I knew it had to be Christian and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God-he was alright.

He arrived at the bottom of the step and I looked upon him with horror. The side of his face was bruising and his eyes were red from crying. And frankly: he looked like a mess.

He cheerfully asked why I was late and where I had been. I knew it was all an act. Since the boy lost his mother I had not been a good father...but I still had a father's instincts no matter how much I had neglected them for the past few years.

I introduced him to my guest and he nodded politely.

"It's nice to meet you sir. Welcome to my home."

Giovanni took his hand in a weak shake.

"It's very nice to meet you Christian. Now-I was wondering if you know a man named Erik." He asked. I shot him a look, wondering what on earth he was doing. My son frowned, as though thinking then shook his head.

"No-I'm afraid not. Who is he?" He inquired curiously.

Giovanni bent down to look him in the eye.

"I am going to give you a description of him. That may help your memory. He will be tall, he has dark hair...but it is a wig. He has blazing golden eyes and most likely is incredibly thin. But the thing you would have noticed most of all was his mask. It was white last time I saw him and took up a quarter of his face. Now-do you know this man?"

My son had turned pale and started trembling.

"Y-yes. I d-do. Why do you ask?" He stammered.

"Because I need to apologize to this man. He was once very special to me and I didn't treat him as I should have. There was an...accident. After that he ran from me."

My son had tears in his eyes now and I wondered what was the matter.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..." He sobbed, letting the dam break. I was at an utter loss. What had happened while I was gone?

"What happened Christian?" I asked harshly. He shook his head.

"I wanted to be his friend....I-I took off his mask..."

Suddenly Giovanni was as pale as my son.

"You took his mask off? You foolish boy! He could have kill...killed you for that!" He shouted, stumbling on the word killed as though it physically hurt him to say it.

"I'm sorry....he's not coming back. He was so angry. And his face...it was terrible!"

I looked between the two of them, wondering what I could do. I kneeled in front of the boy and looked him in the eyes.

"What did you see Christian?" I asked sternly.

"His face was terrible...it was horribly deformed. But his voice, though furious, was the voice of an angel....and angel from Hell!" My son cried. I felt sorry for the boy. But he had brought this on himself. This was no one's fault but his own.

"I do believe we have had enough excitement for tonight. I shall set the guest room for Giovanni. And tomorrow we will look for this man again." I announced, standing up.

I quickly prepared the room and set my son to bed. Right before I left his quarters he tugged on my sleeve and looked up at me.

"Are you mad at me father?....I didn't know..." He said, at loss for words. I patted his head affectionately and that one simple action made me receive a surprised look and then something close to calm on the boy's face. I suddenly realized guiltily how long it had been since I had offered the boy the simplest gesture of affection.

"Non, I am not mad Christian. You could not have known. But I am disappointed in you. I expected better of you. But, for this I will not punish you."

He looked at me with such hope in his eyes that my chest could not help but ache. I bid him goodnight and walked out of his room, into my own.

I collapsed on my bed pondering my child, my late wife and this mysterious man named Erik. How did they all fit together? I eventually fell asleep late, and dreamt of masks and children's smiles.

* * *

I awoke early-or so I thought. It was still dark out and but the house was humming. I walked downstairs to find Giovanni reading my weekly newspaper Le Censeur Europeen. For some odd reason he looked riveted on what he was reading. I cleared my throat and startled him.

"I'm terribly sorry. I did not mean to scare you." I apologized. He nodded.

"I was just reading something." He muttered. I looked at him enquiringly.

"What would that be?" I finally asked when it seemed he was not going to tell me anything.

"There is a funeral I have to attend tomorrow." He said shortly. I looked at him in surprise.

"Can we really afford to have you spotted in public? You are in danger monsieur."

He shook his head stubbornly.

"I need to go. I know this man's brother and I need to pay my condolences....and not to mention the fact that this man knows Erik."

I stared at him in shock.

"Well who would that be?" I inquired.

"The Viscount de Chagny." He answered.

I could hardly believe my ears. How could this man know the Viscount? And not to mention how did his brother-undoubtedly the count-die? But...if he could lead us to Erik I would travel the globe to find him.

"Very well. It seems that tomorrow we will be attending a funeral for the Comte de Changy."


	19. Chapter 19

**I am so, so sorry for making you wait this long for a chapter. It's inexcusable. But I do have a few reasons, first of all the play: it went well, I really miss it and so on. But that ended over a month ago. Now there's a better reason. Writing Philippe's funeral hit a little too close to come for a while. **

**On March 28th a girl a year younger than me in my school was killed in an ATVing accident. I wasn't that close to her or anything. I knew her because she was on my floor hockey team once. And of course I knew her from just seeing her around school and such. It's been a terrible time around school even though just over a month has passed. So, for a while I really couldn't write the funeral scene. **

**So, please keep the family of Bree Desiree Leach in your prayers. Thanks.  
**

**POTO (c) ALW and Gaston Leroux.  
**

**Chapter 19 (Raoul)**

It was the day of the funeral.

My God, how was I going to live through this? He was my brother, my friend and the man I had grown up with that acted as my father.

This was going to be one of the most difficult things I have done in my life, almost as difficult as watching Christine leave me.

But not quite.

I prayed to God that she would be there today, Philippe may not have approved of her now but when we were children they had been friends. I didn't even care that he may be there with her. I only wanted to see her, talk to her and make sure that she understood that I still did love her.

Was that really so hard to understand? I just wanted her to be happy. Could she be happy with that beast? Perhaps.

But I doubted it indeed.

What did he have that I did not? Could he give her the love she deserved? That I could give her? He was made of darkness while I was light....but what woman did not want that touch of darkness? That is what my.....my brother, good god it was hard to say his name, had said.

I glanced at my pocket watch, it was time for it to start. I straightened my cravat and walked into the church, the ache in my heart threatening to destroy me. The lump in my throat made it hard for me to breathe.

I took notice of how many people were in the church….had Philippe really know that many people? I should have been glad that this many people had shown up to honour my brother but all I could think of was that it made it harder to see if Christine had shown up.

I walked to the front pew that was reserved for the mourning families. My sisters were already there with their husbands. They had come all the way from Calais, where they now resided. I briefly wondered if they had attended the funeral out of some misplaced duty to my brother or to make it appear as though they actually cared about him.

My brother and sisters had never really gotten on, my sisters claimed that Philippe had never been reasonable with them. I suspected that it was toads that he put in their brassiere drawer on occasion when he was a boy that had made them not too fond of him.

But whatever they liked to claim they did not get on with him at all. I really was surprised they had decided to make the trip from Calais to here. I suspected that they were here more to act as the grieving sisters than to pay their respects to our fallen brother.

After what seemed like an eternity I reached the front of the church and sat with my grieving sisters. I refused to look at the crowd, this was a time for mourning. Not for looking to see if Christine had decided to attend.

The priest stepped in front of Philippe's casket and started his service. This took the better part of two hours. Then, the hardest part came. We had to bury Philippe in the cemetery that was for our family.

Half the crowd dissipated as we made the move from the church to the graveyard. The other half followed me out.

I said my final goodbyes to my brother there. I stood there for an hour or more as the crowd slowly left. Then, I realized there was six people left, including myself. I spun around to see who it was.

_It was her. And she was with him. _

_And Giovanni was there._

My heart nearly stopped beating. There was a man and a boy with Giovanni. I had no idea who they were but they seemed to know the elderly man.

And The P-Erik seemed to be in shock. Just standing there, staring at them all. Christine just seemed confused, but nervous.

"Glad to see you made it Christine. Giovanni, nice to see you are well. Would you care to introduce me to your friends?" I asked nonchalantly. They all looked my way. Giovanni cleared his throat and answered me.

"O-of course. Monsieur le viscount-this is Kieran and Christian. Kieran, this is the viscount Raoul de Chagny as you know." I nodded briefly at them, my eyes never leaving Christine.

"Thank you very much. Now-I am curious. You had wanted to meet up with Erik and now it seems you have. What will you do now?"

He hesitated for a moment. Then he glanced at Erik.

"I would prefer to speak with him alone if that is to his approval." He murmured.

I looked at the both of them. Erik gave a curt nod and led the elderly man to a private corner of the cemetery, thus leaving Christine with the two men and boy.

I looked at Christine meaningfully.

"Thank you very much for attending. Philippe would have appreciated it." I said. She inclined her head.

"I know better than that Raoul. Your brother thought me beneath you." She whispered, a slight grin on her face. I sighed comically but then grew serious.

"But we were all friends once. He really did adore you when you didn't scream at the worms he put in your food." I reminded her. She gave a small grin.

"Please-do give me some credit. They were just small little things. Nothing to scream over." She gazed at where we had just buried Philippe. "It's really hard to believe he's gone though. It seemed like just yesterday he was acting like the big brother I always wanted. After the worm episode I mean."

I nodded.

"I know what you mean. It doesn't feel real at all. Every time I walk into the de Chagny manner I expect to see him there with a hug, glass of whiskey and a lecture about hanging around the opera house."

She opened her mouth to reply when a clearing of the throat reminded me that we were not alone. I turned to address Kieran and Christian.

"Thank you for coming to pay your respects to my brother." I said properly.

"I am very sorry to hear about your loss."The man replied sincerely. "But if I may enquire-how might your know...E-Erik?" He stumbled over the name as though he were not familiar with it.

I stiffened, not going to tell the stranger anything.

"I do believe that although many people of nobility like to put their life in the open my private life is that, private." I said icily. I know I could have been more accommodating but I was very tense and I was at the grave of my brother, being questioned by a strange man.

Kieran blushed. Before he could speak the boy, who I assumed was his son, spoke up.

"You're Christine Daaè aren't you? The soprano that was kidnapped?" He asked looking at Christine in an interested manner. She blushed and I was about to tell the child that it was none of his concern when Christine spoke instead.

"Why yes I am. Though kidnapped is hardly the word I would use." She replied, looking at me.

The boy's eyes rounded.

"Wait-you're _that _Christine aren't you? _His _Christine." He breathed.

Christine and I shared a confused glance.

"And who might 'he' be?" She asked.

"_Him_-Erik. The man in the mask. The one that just left who escorted you here." He replied eagerly.

Christine's already milky skin paled.

"What do you know about him and I?" She demanded in a tone I rarely heard her use.

The boy lowered his face.

"He helped cure me of a deadly sickness. I-I once heard him mutter the name Christine...was that you?" He asked, seemingly confused.

I immediately questioned his story. That monster would never save someone's life in risk of his own. While I had managed to deter le policier from his tail there were still people out there who had not believed Christine's story and were looking for him.

"Christian! Do not question your elders!" His father barked. The boy shrunk away and I wondered in a moment of rage if the man beat his child.

"Yes father." The boy murmured.

Christine shook her head.

"No-it is alright. Yes, I am that Christine. But please....do tell me more about how you met Erik."

The boy hesitated and looked at his father. The man shook his head.

Boiling rage bubbled in my chest. How dare this man keep information from Christine and I?

"If you do not wish to speak to us then I ask you to leave my property. You obviously did not know my brother and I wish to speak to Christine...alone." I said as calmly as possible.

"The man's eyes went downcast then raised.

"You must understand-how do I know that you will not hurt that man or my son?" He asked. I had the childish urge to shrug my shoulders.

"How can I trust you not to retrieve the genderarms and arrest us for associating with a known criminal?" I replied.

He seemed amused by this answer.

"Touché. You are a very good negotiator M le Viscount." He praised.

"Thank you...now-if you wouldn't mind?" I hinted. He shook his head.

"I still do not fully trust you. My son will share his information with you but in return you will tell us about what went on that night of the famous 'Don Juan' opera."

Could I really turn down such an offer? If I needed to I could always lie about the story like I had to everyone else. Still-there was one person I needed to consult about this.

My eyes lifted to Christine. Her brows drew as though she were surprised that I had asked her opinion in the matter. But then she nodded.

I looked back at the man and nodded.

"Very well...let us begin."


End file.
